She lies in her bed

She lies in her bed,
well made of the soft earth,
caring nothing
of wars
or hunger
or sadness.

She lies comfortable,
spending
hours
days
weeks
considering the properties of rain
and how needy the roots of the young sapling.

She no longer hungers
but she is nourished
as she counts
months
years
centuries
and, oh, how lovely the sun looks
each time it rises over the ridge,
raising the tiny living grasses
to wave over her .

She smiles
easy in her bed.

***EMILY: “Does anyone ever realize life while they live it…every, every minute?”
STAGE MANAGER: “No. Saints and poets maybe…they do some.”― Thornton Wilder, Our Town

10 thoughts on “She lies in her bed

  1. Oh, I would like to think one would live easily in his/her bed after living their life. Hopefully all earthly woes will be put aside & only joys will remain.

  2. So peaceful and welcoming of death ~ I specially love the idea of watching time passed by and seeing the sun rising over the ridge ~

    Thanks for joining in Kathleen ~ Have a lovely day ~

  3. that would be almost worth the price of dying, to know that we can no longer be torn apart by war, hunger or sadness… to rejoice without care in the sun’s warmth and the wind’s breezes

    a lovely, joyful poem

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