There You Lie Down (a poem of my father)

 

There You Lie Down

 

Up in there, in the shadowed and sunlit glen . . . you will lie.

Scattered amongst the meadow where we hunted.

You a man, with your boys, your sons.

Wanting to be like you, yet unlike you.

Hunting for what it is to be a boy then a man.

 

You are there now, scattered in the meadows and soaring trees,

Your harrowed flesh and bone and ashes of your desire

Now, now, and now again, memories born and die again,

part of the fabric of the universe and our lives.

 

Soon the trees that are you will die and be reborn,

A house, a bed, a chair, a crib with a rocking baby softly cooing.

There you will lie . . . thinking what has become of me?

Their remains, like you, pass on and new growth echoes. 

 

There you will lie . . .

Scattered amongst the trees of memory and our footprints,

With sounds of our tears, our chats, our dreams of you, what has been and will be.

The atoms, quarks, and particles of an expanding universe

Careening to immutable laws,

Resulting in birth, life, death ad infinitum.

 

 

David McCullough

February 26, 20224

Six Years

 

 

 

For Vic . . . 

Six years ago today I was engaged in what for me was a titanic struggle to regain my soul, life and who I was.  Little did I know what was to come in this life.  But I know this . . . that being with you has been the single greatest joy of my life.  Together we make a great team as we live, love and laugh our way with all that we have created.  Thank you for loving me, having the courage to take the initiative to kiss me six years ago, that leap into the constant unknown.  Your wisdom enabled you to trust your heart, intuition and your own need for freedom to be who you are and to be happy.  You are the love of my life.

We Do What We Can . . .

 We do what we can.

To save peoples lives.

To heal and mend.

hold their hands in the midst of suffering

while doing a million other task

to look them in the eyes.

We cannot help those who will not help themselves

down the road to self destruction

who say they are ok with the dying.

once the dying starts

The tune we all dance to begins to change

I do not want to die

Most of us do not want . . .

to die.

Time and years.

life becomes tenuous and increasingly precious

the less beats and breaths remain to be taken.

 

    David McCullough

    February 6, 2024