She lies in her bed,
well made of the soft earth,
She lies comfortable,
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
and, oh, how lovely the sun looks
each time it rises over the ridge,
raising the tiny living grasses
to wave over her .
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
What a lovely idea of death!
such a sense of beautiful peace with this one, Kathleen 🙂 I’ll definitely be thinking of this during my next meander through the cemetery
such peaceful existence…
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.
Only in death can true peace be found.. very sad still very soft.
love the heart of this… say “hi” to Rose
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 ~
when we are laid up, forced to slow down…and we are measure not in hours but minutes, it does force us to notice the little things…and when time is short…all the more….
you know…i’m glad she found peace… yet would love if she could get up and walk around a bit..
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