Poetry Friday - Our last anniversary
Today's poem is sobering, but no-one will be able to say that it means nothing to them, because this event will befall us all. More important than the date of its coming, is knowing where you will be after it passes. If that is not something you are sure of, then let me, as the greatest kindness I could ever do you, suggest you read through this. Then enjoy the poem.
FOR THE ANNIVERSARY OF MY DEATH
by W.S. Merwin
Every year without knowing it I have passed the day
When the last fires will wave to me
And the silence will set out
Tireless traveller
Like the beam of a lightless star
Then I will no longer
Find myself in life as in a strange garment
Surprised at the earth
And the love of one woman
And the shamelessness of men
As today writing after three days of rain
Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease
And bowing not knowing to what