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An Ellen Bass Poem on Dying

As we march forward into Spring, I got an email today from one of my favorite poets, Roger Houston LINK HERE . In it he had this fabulous poem by Ellen Bass, another favorite on my list of poets.

Here is his intro and her poem – it is an exquisite look at death and dying.

Hi ,

Whoever we are, no matter how successful or lonely, sooner or later our place at the table of life will be cleared and we will be gone. When we remember this, this poem says, something softens in us. We breathe a little easier. We remember that every one of us is in the same leaky old boat. So why not share our kindness while we still have time?

Warmly,

Roger

PS: For writers, spiritual inquirers and the irrepressibly curious!

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If You Knew

Ellen Bass

What if you knew you’d be the last

to touch someone?

If you were taking tickets, for example,

at the theater, tearing them,

giving back the ragged stubs,

you might take care to touch that palm,

brush your fingertips

along the life line’s crease.

When a man pulls his wheeled suitcase

too slowly through the airport, when

the car in front of me doesn’t signal,

when the clerk at the pharmacy

won’t say Thank you, I don’t remember

they’re going to die.

A friend told me she’d been with her aunt.

They’d just had lunch and the waiter,

a young gay man with plum black eyes,

joked as he served the coffee, kissed

her aunt’s powdered cheek when they left.

Then they walked half a block and her aunt

dropped dead on the sidewalk.

How close does the dragon’s spume

have to come? How wide does the crack

in heaven have to split?

What would people look like

if we could see them as they are,

soaked in honey, stung and swollen,

reckless, pinned against time?

~ from Ten Poems To To Say Goodbye

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