PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I failed to acknowledge the anniversary of the date of your Homegoing, October 16th, 1932.  And, I want to acknowledge, in advance, the annivesary of your birthdate, November 6th, 1882.  The greatness of your Poetry, very Christian, mostly in sonnet form, was overshadowed by the mostly detrimental torrent of so-called Modernism---a pernicious movement that has cut us off, for the most part, from our Poetic heritage.  

   I think you understood certain aspects of human nature (and, if I may add without seeming to boast or brag, of my own nature, as well), and these aspects are innate and not selected by choice or imitation.

   On July 10th, 1976, my best friend, Cerulean, helped to lead me to the identity of "Starwatcher," an appellation that freed me, once and for all, from the shadow of my parents' restrictive and inhibitive influence.  But, in 2017, or so, your sonnet on Saint Benedict led me to the word, "Starward," into which Starwatcher has evolved.  I am forever grateful to you for that.

   Your gravestone is a Celtic cross.  I wear one, metallic blue, on a chain around my neck---along with a personalized crucifix (that is, it bears on its reverse surface the inscription, Starward) of the same color---in your memory.  The crucifix reminds me that Jesus Christ, God's Son, Savior of all who believe upon Him, died my death so that I might live forever through His own eternal Life; the Celtic cross reminds me of the foremost Poet who wrote of our Faith.

    Assured by Christ's own Words, I do not fear death.  Its power shattered by Christ's entry into it, it is now not a destination but merely a portal---a curious set of ruins through which the believer rapidly passes (apparently less than a single afternoon, according to Luke 23:43) to the destiny that is eternal Heaven, the eternal presence of Christ, which is the continuation of that blessed Fellowship (or, in Greek, Koinonia) that---according to the great Apostle Saint John's first epistle (1:3)---we already have with God and Christ.

    They tell me, great Poet, that you passed from this life with a sense, a feeling, of great assurance and anticipation, and that you spoke words of comfort to those who surrounded your deathbed as your life force, in this world, began its transition to Heaven.  I pray that I might have a death as peaceful and as salutary to those who might be present at my earthly expiration.

Starward