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EPITAPH by Merrit Malloy |
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When I die
Give what's left of me away
To children
And old men that wait to die.
And if you need to cry,
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you.
And when you need me,
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give them
What you need to give to me.
I want to leave you something,
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.
Look for me
In the people I've known
Or loved,
And if you cannot give me away,
At least let me live on your eyes
And not on your mind.
You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands,
By letting
Bodies touch bodies,
And by letting go
Of children
That need to be free.
Love doesn't die,
People do.
So, when all that's left of me
Is love,
Give me away.
I'll see you at home
in the earth.
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Notice |
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This evening, the sturdy Levis
I wore every day for over a year
and which seemed to the end in perfect condition,
suddenly tore. How or why I don’t know,
but there it was--a big rip at the crotch.
A month ago my friend Nick
walked off the racquetball court
showered
got into his street clothes,
and halfway home collapsed and died.
Take heed you who read this
and drop on your knees now and again
like the poet Christopher Smart
and kiss the earth and be joyful
and make much of your time
and be kindly to everyone,
even to those who do not deserve it.
For although you may not believe it will happen,
you too will one day be gone.
I, who’s Levis,
ripped at the crotch
for no reason
assure you that such is the case.
Pass it on.
Steve Kowit
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The Summer Day |
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The Summer Day
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
The grasshopper I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I’ve been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Mary Oliver
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Collaboration |
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Despair shows us the limit of our own imagination.Imagination shared creates collaboration,and collaboration creates community,and community inspires social change." Terry Tempest Williams
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