Death is too final. A full-stop. And we are left wishing for commas and semi-colons, wishing there was more we could do. Perhaps we do not believe in things after Death but we sure wish for it. Heres a beautiful poem that captures this mood, All death is tragic and no poem can catch its essence. This is not trivialization, just an attempt to reflect a mood. She Speaks of Death Oblivion, she said in a weary voice, is what is after death. There is nothing after death but nothing and thats all right with me. It made good scientific sense, nailed to the cathedral door of her religious childhood. And when her husband died a few years later oblivion pinned against eternity sagged in the middle and in its folds sweet disbelief surprised her and the hope she hadnt seen the last of him yet. Barbara Pescan
Posted on: Fri, 27 Jun 2014 05:52:13 +0000