Gone From My Sight
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says, “There, she is gone.”
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me — not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, “There, she is gone,”
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, “Here she comes!”
And that is dying…
Henry Jackson Van Dyke
Regardless of what we believe, it remains true that the dead are carried by the living; they actively contribute to weaving the tapestry of our collective story for as long as we remember them — their stories, their sorrows, their joys, and their hopes and prayers for us and generations to come.
In memoriam of our blogger Spearfruit, a kind man, and a great fighter. Wherever you are now, may there be music.