Poem: Death Be Not Proud (Holy Sonnet 10)
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
------------------John Donne (1572-1631) English metaphysical poet, preacher, essayist, and Anglican priest
Proverb:
“It was in fact the ordinary nature of everything preceding the event that prevented me from truly believing it had happened, absorbing it, incorporating it, getting past it. I recognized now that there was nothing unusual in this: confronted with sudden disaster we all focus on how unremarkable the circumstances were in which the unthinkable occurred…..”
------------------Joan Didion (1934-2021), American journalist, essayist, novelist, memoirist, playwright, and screenwriter, winner of the National Book Award from The Year of Magical Thinking
Painting: Before I Die, Candy Chang, public art installation begun in 2011, New Orleans
Prayer: Grace in Grief
God of Compassion,
we center ourselves in silence before you,
laying our sorrow at your feet.
Walk alongside us in the days to come
as our companion in grief
as we travel this hard road
on this unwanted journey.
Help us forgive
and be forgiven
of all that is left undone,
of all that cannot now be done,
with grace for our loved ones
and grace for ourselves.
Let us fasten on what can be done
with tenderness and gratitude.
Strengthen us to release the imperfections of love
and the fragility of relationships
with gentle hands.
Lift the boat of our hearts
by the sea of our memories of laughter and joy,
and carry away any bitterness with the tide of compassion.
O Mothering God,
Let us grieve as Jesus grieved
and weep as Jesus wept.
Help us cradle our memories,
as Mary cradled the body of her child.
In assurance and trust, let the gift of your Spirit
lead us to hold fast to our faith
in the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body
and the life everlasting
through Jesus Christ our Savior and Redeemer.
Amen.
----------------Leslie Barnes Scoopmire, April 8, 2025
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