#death

TO SING AMONG THE BIRDS

TO SING AMONG THE BIRDS

 

Frances used to take him walking in the woods…they would listen to the trees

They would stop to touch the flowers…watch the butterfly and bees.

 

Frances loved to walk amidst the birds…she knew them all by name…

She did not have a favorite one…for she loved them all the same.

 

She would say how beautiful are their songs…their melodies without words….

“Oh I would give anything.” she often wished…”to sing among the birds.”

 

When he heard Frances had passed away…the Frances he adored…

he quickly ran into the forest…to the place where they explored.

 

How they loved to walk in these woods..over the years so many wonders they had found…

But he was not expecting today…what he discovered on the ground.

 

He was thinking about Frances…when suddenly he heard

plaintive cries from up above…was that the moaning of a bird?

 

He looked around and then he saw it…just a few steps up ahead…

A baby bird had fallen from the nest…the baby bird was dead.

 

He scooped her up as gently as he could…and in a voice both sad and calm

he looked up in the tree and said, “I’m sorry!” to the mom.

 

A tear cascaded down his cheek…he looked into her mother’s eyes…

And as he listened to her somber tweet…he wondered…do birds could cry?

 

He nestled the bird within his hands…she was a beautiful shade of blue…

He carried her back to his front porch…unsure what else to do.

 

He smiled as he thought of Frances…and it was easy to decide.

He filled an old shoe box with cotton…then laid the bird inside.

 

He took that box back back to the woods…then got on his hands and knees

And with mom (and Frances) watching….he buried her beneath that tree.

 

“Don’t be too sad, momma bird.” He said.  “I’m as sad as you are too.”

But your baby’s up with Frances now…and she knows what to do…”

 

The he looked up to the heavens…searching in his heart for the right words…

“I think Frances got her wish.” He said…”she’s now singing with the birds.”

 

The momma bird landed on a lower branch…she tweeted a lullaby

 

As boy and bird found their own way…to say their last good-bye.


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A JOURNEY OF SURVIVAL

Life is a series if journeys…not all of them on the map…

A myriad of adventures…that some times overlap.

 

We look at these overlapping journeys as a gift we’ve been bestowed 

and we endeavor to enjoy the ride…no matter how bumpy the road.

 

Take, for instance, the journey of expectant parents…

It’s begun in euphoria as they anticipate their new arrival…

but if it is death not birth that greets them…

It becomes a journey of survival.

 

They wonder how this happened…how did this tragedy come about?

So many questions flood their minds…they fight hard…

but they can’t keep them out?

 

Why did our baby’s heart stop beating? Will our broken hearts ever mend?

Why did this have to happen to us? Will our sadness ever end?

 

How do we overcome our sorrow? For it’s difficult to remember when…

we were ever filled with happiness…and will we ever be happy again?

 

The first time it rains they look out the window…they weep and they hurt and they moan…

as they wonder if their baby’s staying dry…and they hate that she’s all alone.

 

Friends and family try to be helpful…they remind them they have their whole life ahead…

but they don’t understand how hard it is to go on living…when a part of you is dead.

 

So secretly they come up with a plan…a plan that has beauty and solace and art.

They know their baby can’t grow in this world…so you allow him to grow in their heart.

 

And they begin to wonder what she’d look as she grows up…how tall…how much would she weigh.

What would he be doing with his life…if he were alive today?

 

And they keep her memory alive…although she is now but a distant star….

So they will recognize him and he them…once they have, too, have crossed the bar…

 

Yes life is filled with a series of journeys…over hills and valleys and knolls…

 

Burt sometimes the most beautiful journeys in life…are the journey within our own souls.


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ALL THE HEATHERS I HAVE MISSED

 

I have never lingered in a field of heather 

but I can imagine how it feels…

to be enveloped by its pinks and purples…

to experience the beauty it reveals. 

 

to be intoxicated by its aroma…

like the birds, the air, the bees…

to watch it glisten in the morning sun 

and undulate in the breeze.

 

I hope one day to walk in heather…I hope I get the chance

I’d love to be surrounded by its beauty…and watch its blossoms dance.

 

Each year heather loses its blooms…one day its colors fade…

perhaps reminding us how life is momentary…a fleeting serenade…

 

Yet my hope for heather is never ending…

it's constantly spreading its wings

knowing, even if I miss another year…

it will return in Spring…

 

 

I never knew the Heather…who was killed in Charlottesville.

I never got to experience her beauty…and now I never will.

 

because hate has taken her from us…no longer will she sing…

no longer will she laugh or play…or return to us in Spring…

 

Yes, I hope one day to linger in a field of heather

and by its beauty perhaps be kissed….

But today, more than ever, I am saddened…

 

by all the Heathers I have missed.


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WITH A SMILE ON HIS FACE

His obituary read…he died last night…sometime in the early morn…

He was 95 years old when he passed…in the house where he was born…

 

In the town he never left…in the town where he had grown…

In the town he loved so dearly…in the town he called his home.

 

And though he never traveled…never ventured to any other place…

the article stated this 95 year old man…died…

with a smile on his face.

 

For when that fateful time arrived…at the moment his life would end…

his house was filled from top to bottom with family…and friends.

 

As I finished his obituary I wondered about the path in life he chose…

living his life in just one place…like a solitary rose.

 

95 years old…never traveled…was he happy?

Well, I guess that all depends…

for he seemed to find his happiness amid his family and friends.

 

I guess each person finds happiness in their own way…

in their own time and their own place…

and, perhaps, the best that we can hope for…

is to die with a smile on our face….

 

To die in the bosom of our family and friends…

to die with angels hovering above….

to die knowing as we rest our eyes one final time

 

we’re surrounded by those we love.


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LIFE THREW HER A CURVE

 

I did not ask our cashier’s age of course…as etiquette forbids.

I imagine she was in her 80’s because she kept addressing us as ‘kids’.

 

She was effusive, kind and talkative as she undertook her cashier’s task

She mentioned she was from Oregon…

“What brought you to Florida?” I asked.

 

She smiled though her eyes seemed sad, then sighed, 

I’m sure she was working up the nerve…

“My husband and I were visiting here,” she said, “when life threw me a curve.”

 

Her sadness drifted onto us…we found it hard to orient…

We were not sure what to say or do…for we knew what her words meant.

 

“Now I’m on my own.” she said, “It’s not the way it was supposed to be…

so I moved here to be closer to my daughter and help with her family.

 

“Life goes on!” she said forcing a smile as she took a bag off of the shelf…

but I wondered…was she still talking to us…or trying to convince herself?

 

We talked with her a while…perhaps we made her load a little lighter

and I noticed as we left the store…we held each other’s hand a little tighter.

 

For, once again we were reminded of how quickly life can pass

and why…while we’re still on this planet…

we need to make each moment last.

 

So hold the hand of someone you love a little tighter today…

show them you love them with respect and passion and verve…

because you never know when tomorrow comes…

 

If life will be throwing you a curve.


LOST

He just buried his wife…amid a trail of tears…

Their good long life together spanning 77 years..

 

He spoke at her grave and as I watched him…

as the tears of his sadness flowed

I couldn’t help but be captivated 

by the words he there bestowed:

 

“When I think of my wife….and the life we shared

from the day our paths first crossed

“What stands out in my memory the most,” he said,

 “are all the times that I’ve been lost.”

 

“All the evenings sleeping by her side, 

every beautiful sunrise

every time I stopped to look at her…

I was lost within her eyes.

 

I was lost within her smile…within her voice, within her charms…

lost within her laughter, within her sadness…within her arms.

 

When I think back on our life together, these are the moments I will miss

like all the times throughout our life…I was lost within her kiss…

 

Now I find myself lost in silence 

with thoughts drifting on about her

and I know until we’re together again

I will be lost without her….”

 

As the funeral ended, as people departed, as the candles all were dimmed

I found myself hoping one day I too would be lost…

lost in life…

lost in love…

 

just like him.


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BROKEN BRANCHES & FALLEN LEAVES

The roots of a family tree run deep for they were planted long ago.

Generation upon generation have watched that sapling grow

into a tree whose myriad of branches now reach into the sky,

into a tree whose strength and beauty is impossible deny.

 

There is also no denying how the formation of that tree

has has been shaped by many blessings…and much adversity.

 

There is joy in each new branch…happiness in each new leaf

no matter if they’ve endured for years…or if their time with us was brief.

And there is sorrow in the tree as well for representing every grief…

there is a branch that has been broken…there is a fallen leaf.

 

If you are a branch that has been broken..or a leaf that has fallen from the tree…

It may be difficult to remain hopeful…it may be difficult to see

how that family tree wouldn’t be the same without the portion you brought to it…

and even though your heart is broken…you will somehow muddle through it…

For you will soon discover…that a new tree is conceived…

growing from the remnants of broken branches…

 

from the remains of fallen leaves


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Work Family

Folder: 
2017

In the age of time, 

Friends come and go,

But family lives in you forever. 

 

Some family becomes foes,

Others become distant,

While others become closer and closer. 

Some have demons,

While others have flowers within. (Metaphorically speaking)

 

With work family, 

We grow as a team,

We have Teamwork, 

We argue, 

We fight, 

But at the end,

We become One. 

 

Some work family stay quiet,

Others talk and talk,

Some share their stories,

Many express through thoughts,

While others are there for one another. 

 

We always lose family to many wonders of Life,

But in the end, we gain knowledge from those that leave us. 

 

Today, we remember & Reflect an LDC Brother. God may have gained an angel; but forever he will be in our hearts. Especially with the Officers at Forest Ranger Pursuit or an Apprentice to Merlin. But in the end, he will always be remembered as Justin. 

 

Justin, may you enjoy your life beyond Legoland. Until we all meet again. We will miss you!


April 9th, 2017

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

On April 1st, I lost a dear co-worker due to suicide. My coworkers and I were heart broken to hear the news. So i decided to write a poem not only dedicated to him, but also to the Family Bond my job has with each other. 

 

RIP Justin!

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We Don't Have To Say Goodbye

Death came earlier than expected...
we begged...
we pleaded...
we prayed
But death ignored all our requests...
for that often is death’s way.

And just as often we were not ready
we could not justify...
we were confused...
we were sad...
we were angry
and it hurt to say goodbye.

But once we finished grieving
happiness revived
For although we lost a person we love
Our memories survived.

Which means as long as we remember...
that person remains near-by...
and every time we think of them...
we don’t have to say goodbye.

 

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