A poem about a peaceful death
A MOMENT OF LOVING REGARD FOR WHAT IS
The silence is all there is…Annie Dillard
Is she here or is she there?
The elderly asked of her elderly mother,
who lay dying, quiet and still as an August wind.
Blazing sun. Already the morning dripped.
Nearby a fly buzzed.
Get. Scoot. The woman said, waving her hands.
I was tempted to say yes, in reply.
As though I might know such a thing.
Is she already with the Lord, in God’s presence,
Ushered into the reign of heaven
is what she was asking.
There is no yes there is no no at such times.
There is just a loving regard for what is.
A positive regard for the Real. The very very Real.
So I said: Wherever she is, in this body
right here she sure seems at peace,
which makes me think she is surrounded by god’s presence.
That was still too many words, but it hinted at something.
She seemed okay with that. I seemed okay with that.
It is, after all, enough.
The woman dying, in all her stillness and quiet,
Said everything there is to say, though,
that much I know to be true.
