When Death Comes- Mary Oliver

 When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering;
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver, easily my favorite poet, has left me with a poem to ponder.  By the end of this year I expect my copy of New and Selected Poems: Volume One will be quite tattered. I do not consider myself a visitor to this world, and it was my uncle who taught me long ago the importance of a smile. Love.

Two friendly visitors at Aunt Pam and Uncle Fred's house, summer 2011

 My Uncle Fred was an avid photographer and part of the reason I ever studied photography all through high school.  Some of his old photographs on his long-since updated website: http://afoodexperience.net/Gallery/albums.php