It's snowing in another country
I'm not there, but I'm numb
It doesn't really make sense
Does it?
Atmospheric translucent crystals
falling from the sky
tucking you in
keeping you warm
I like to picture that they're falling for you
dancing for you
keeping you company
They don't know yet
but they are burying a lion heart
releasing a bird
And as your last gift
they're making you angels in the snow
I thought you were immortal
I was wrong
You write even better than you dance.
ReplyDeleteIn a way you write like you dance.
W. H. Auden
ReplyDeleteStop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Oh, I remember this poem from four weddings and a funeral. It's such a strong and honest poem. I love it. Thank you Rebecca.
ReplyDelete