When Death Comes

This Sunday night I wanted to share one of my all-time favorite poems with you. I hope you’ve had a wonderful weekend.

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 the 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 the 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

What is your favorite poem?

  • http://thatmarriedcouple.blogspot.com/ ThatMarriedCouple

    I have to confess that I don’t have a favorite poem. Maybe that’s why I ditched the literature part of my English degree for linguistics? If I did have to pick, it would probably be something that rhymed. You’re so much deeper than I :)

  • http://nowealthbutlife.com Rae

    Beautiful!

  • http://www.eafromtheheart.blogspot.com Maggie

    This is beautiful! I used to love poetry when I was a little kid, but a lit teacher in high school turned me off from it. Maybe you’ve inspired me to take another look at poetry!

  • http://www.rebecca-feelmylove.blogspot.com Rebecca

    Beautiful.

    My favorite poem recently has been Robert Frost’s Two Roads Diverged in a Wood (is that even the title). I know it’s not exactly unique, but it’s meaning has really resonated in my life lately.