The death of . . .

.

.

I remember standing in the family room

dusting to get the gleam of wood in dim light through

the window, through the trees,

and oh maybe I will turn on the television

for company

for some unknown reason for I

never

Never

do so in daytime

and seldom at night,

and there I stood clutching a white cloth

as a plane flew into an office building

which made no sense

and horror seeped into me and fear

where are my children, my children

as events unfolded, became clear,

days came and went, somehow

I developed an

aversion

to television

and the in-my-face pain

alternating with

a glut of vapidity,

and I listened to the news on the

radio

and read

and

the news was no better, really

there were wars, battles, bombings,

villages, churches, children,

innocents

taken away

innocence

gone astray.

Today the juxtaposition of Life’s horror

and Life’s Love

keeps me earthbound

and tender of heart.

I don’t care

if no one reciprocates my

acts of kindness

nor answers my neighborly

greetings or

my smiles.

I send them out to the world anyway.

If they brighten one day

in the days when there is

no sun,

no soul,

when there seems

no hope,

We

know

otherwise.

.

.

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17 Comments on “The death of . . .”

  1. free penny press says:

    As a Mother I have always felt some fear when they were away from me.. but I have learned to trust the universe and pray they stay safe..
    lovely, thought provoking piece Lily!

  2. DM says:

    tender of heart…yep, I can feel your tender heart from here. Glad you’re writing again. I have been too busy. DM

    • lily says:

      Well I hope you are snapping a few photos of your busy-ness there on the farm amidst the hills and mist and mushrooms and grains and chickens and the building of things… and then when you get a chance, your thoughts and photos can grace cyberspace. : )

      Thanks for taking the time to stop by, DM. Hope you and Mrs.DM are having a lovely summer.

      ~ Lily

  3. janinevasta says:

    We do.

    Lily I love the transformation of this piece from dim sorrow to resolutions of sorts. Have a beautiful week. Jxx

  4. It needs the gentleness of a poet to offset the senseless acts of murder perpetuated by hideous twisted blief – well done, Lily!

    • lily says:

      Thank you, Thomas. It means a lot to me to hear that from you as I am acquainted with your depths, intellect, and talent. Have yourself an artistic week,
      ~ Lily

  5. Very moving words, Lily…and yes, a smile and/or some kindness Can make someone’s day or even week much more bearable. Thank you for this fine post (and image)!

  6. lily says:

    You are quite welcome, my friend. Have yourself a beautiful week!
    ~ Lily

  7. pencil pilot says:

    I love your acts of kindness and neighborly greetings; thank you for sending them out. ~The world notices.~ Hope is fed when we lift one another up. A very beautiful piece. And, thank you for stopping by my doorstep recently. 🙂 ~emma

    • lily says:

      Why thank you, emma, for noticing and for your kindness! It’s nice to “see” you!
      I was happy to stop by. Anyone who combines Shakespeare with chores is my kind of person. : )

      ~ Lily

  8. andylmoore says:

    Hi Lily,
    Lovely poem.

  9. lily says:

    Thank you, Andy. It is probably not poetic as your soup, however : )
    Any readers who are hungry, head on over to Andy’s place if in the mood to cook something spicy. I haven’t yet tried his soup but it sure looks delish!

    ~ Lily

  10. Moving and thought provoking… you have a wonderful gift.


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