Enlightenment moving again eludes me once more.
Each time I grasp it
Carried with joy
However fleeting.

Poem from 2010

I have had intimations of my own mortality. 

Not willfully but thrust upon me by life's cadence. 

It's endless march of life and death

The slow wheeling of the seasons. 

A crisp river frozen In moonlight,

Birds nest hanging

Bird in flight

Your face leaned over me in ecstatic repose

Drinking in life without delay. 

I suppose we do all possible 

To escape that day,

To live again without thought or care

In time but not of it

Imagining and struggling to loosen it's meaningful bonds that tie us to each other

To the earth where we will rest 

To once more become part of that 

Whence we came. 

I have intimations of my mortality

And struggle for acceptance

Yet to stave off death may not be so sweet

As the moments and years and decades that make a life. 

It is that time between death and birth

That drives us in our search for meaning

For love

Fulfillment

Commitment to a cause greater than ourself

To a life filled with meaning and 

A death that has been filled with love

A life that has been well lived

Echoes of our own mortality

Intimations of my own mortality

Resound upon the water 

The meadow

My heart held by your love

Eyes locked to yours

Hand to hand 

Heart to heart

Beating

Holding

Loving. 

David McCullough

September 17, 2010

 

Laughing

Laughing

In silence of course

At our busy minds

And hearts too sore

To bear the aching and breaking

Of living and dying

But of course we do

We bear it

The tenderness

The vulnerability

The gentle unsparing and vigourous discipline

Of investigating to know what it is like 

to not know. 

Posting this again in case I forgot to!

I wish it had been you

That had sped the plough

And sowed the seed

And harvested the soul 

Of my memories of you

But alas it is I

To lay my hand upon your furrowed brow 

And wash the aching loss of a grieving heart

It is the nurse and doctor and I and you and my brother, sister, father and lover …

that speeds the morphine,

that slows the heart,

to ease the pain of love torn apart

I wish it had been you 

But it is me it is you and you and you

That plants the ground,

Upon which love grows. 

I wish it had been you. 

I wish it had been you. 

I wish it had been you.