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