Sunday, September 11, 2011

Your Sunday Poem, 9-11-11

From Jane Hirshfield's "Given Sugar, Given Salt."

The Dead Do Not Want Us Dead

The dead do not want us dead:
such petty errors are left for the living.
Nor do they want our mourning.
No gift to them -- not rage, not weeping.
Return one of them, any one of them, to the earth,
and look: such foolish skipping,
such telling of bad jokes, such feasting!
Even a cucumber, even a single anise seed: feasting.

                                     September 15, 2001


Alon Perlman said...

Simple truth.
Few of us get to practice the social rules the dead live by.
Until it's too late.
But 9/11 is so long ago.
I prefer to commune with the freshly deceased, their sense of observation is so much sharper, or is it just me?

Mike Green said...

Where we are going, every one goes
Where do we want to go? Nobody knows
The wind blows
The sea flows
And nobody knows