Life and Death

Just some thinkin' words.

Life and Death

by Ethan Unklesbay

Of life and death two things are sure

And these are death and life.

Around them we decide we are

Of happiness or strife

Of life there is a markéd start

As well as is the markéd finish

Of death we see but entrance that

Is often marked with great panache

Of life and death, are many things

That I am never sure.

Is it in life or death we choose

To live or die the more?

Do not go gentle into that good night

A friend of mine died recently. Its interesting to read this poem in the wake of the passing of a girl who certainly did not go gentle into the night. Her passing was gentle and calm, but she did not go into the night. "Rage, rage against the dying of the light" explains how she went. She kept her light alive even after her body was not. She keeps her light alive, and she blazes like a meteor against the dark night sky.

This poem reminds me of my friend and inspires me to shine as she did.

Do not go gentle into that good night

by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

To David, About His Education

To David, About His Education
by Howard Nemerov

This world is full of mostly invisible things,
And there is no way but putting the mind's eye,
Or its nose, in a book, to find them out,
Things like the square root of Everest
Or how many times Byron goes to Texas,
Or whether the law of the excluded middle
Applies west of the Rockies. For these
And the like reasons, you have to go to school
And study books and listen to what you are told,
And sometimes try to remember. Though I don't know
What you will do with the mean annual rainfall
On Plato's Republic, or the calorie content
Of the Diet of Worms, such things are said to be
Good for you, and you will have to learn them
In order to become one of the grown-ups
Who sees invisible things neither steadily nor whole,
But keeps gravely the grand confusion of the world
Under his hat, which is where it belongs,
And teaches small children to do this in their turn.


I have my feelings about public education, and the poem sums it up pretty well. For the less poetic, there's always a TEDtalk.

For those less inclined to poetry or TEDtalks, those who just like reading a story about something to understand it, there's "The Little Prince," by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

Trust: A spoken-word poem

And that's when it hit me.

You have got to get your act together man.

You give and you give, but what does it matter?

If you can't give her what she wants,

if you can't give her what she needs,

then she won't have any reason to stay.

I'll fix things, I say.

I trust you, I say. Again.

—­You've said that before.

Right where it hurts. I never thought I'd be the one hearing that

instead of saying it.

I know, but this time it's different.

—How?

she says. Well, I can't say that's not a valid question.

Can I?

Wait, think...

She's right. She's right. What am I gonna do this time to make it different?

How can I just trust and give her the benefit of the doubt this time?

Ready, set...

I'm gonna love you this time.

I'm gonna believe in you this time.

I'm gonna hold on to every single piece of good this time.

I'm gonna believe. I'm gonna believe you this time.

When you say you love me, this time I'm gonna go home that night and write in my journal:

"She loves me today; she said so, and I know that she would never lie or deceive me.

I'm gonna remember the time when you had a secret

It was more than just a secret. It was a time bomb

that had four short months left tick-tick-ticking away.

You put it in my hands and said, "I'm gonna cut the green wire

and it's gonna save both our lives, but it'll only work

if you hold the bomb."

I'm gonna keep my promises this time,

and I pray that God gives both of us the faith

we need to get through this nightmare together.

I'm gonna jump

and listen, this time I don't have a parachute.

If you say you'll catch me,

I will not be afraid.

Rocking

Rocking
by Gabriela Mistral
translated by Ethan Unklesbay

The sea with its thousand waves,
rocks divinely.
The loving seas in my ears,
I rock my child.

The wandering wind of night
Rocks fields of grain.
The loving winds in my ears,
I rock my child.

God, Father of thousands of worlds,
Rocks them gently.
His hand felt in the shadows,
I rock my child.

My Cup

My Cup

by Robert Friend

They tell me I am going to die.

Why don't I seem to care?

My cup is full. Let it spill.

It's interesting to read this after a close friend has passed away. Especially a friend who let her cup spill so generously.

We spend our whole lives trying to fill ourselves with something, and there are so many things that just don't matter, that don't put anything in our cup, per se. If we spend our time wisely, focus on the small things, help others, share the multitude of blessings that God sees fit to give to us, we will spend our lives filled to the brim, ready to overflow. Whether we die young or live to be a hundred and two, I believe that we should live with a "Let it spill" kind of attitude. My cup is full. To quote the psalmist, it "runneth over", it's overflowing. If I can let that goodness spill out over others, I will only have room for more.

It is Strictly Prohibited

This is a personal favorite attributed to Pablo Neruda, Chilean poet, and translated by myself.


Crying without learning,
Getting up one day without knowing what to do,
Being afraid of your memories is strictly prohibited.

Not smiling at your problems,
Not fighting for what you love,
Abandoning it all for fear,
Failing to turn your dreams into reality, is strictly prohibited.

Not showing your love
And making someone else pay your debts and pay for your bad days, is strictly prohibited.

Leaving friends behind,
Not trying to comprehend what you lived together,
Calling them only when you need them, is strictly prohibited.

Not being yourself in front of others,
Acting like people aren't important to you,
Being "the funny guy" only to be remembered,
Forgetting about people who really care about you, is strictly prohibited.

Not doing anything of your own right,
Not believing in God, not making your destiny,
Fear of life and commitments,
Not living every day as if it were your last breath, is strictly prohibited.

Missing someone without cheering up,
Forgetting their eyes, their smile, everything,
Just because your paths have lost their embrace,
Forgetting your past and paying for it with your present, is strictly prohibited.

Not trying to understand people,
Thinking their lives are worth more than yours,
Not knowing that everyone has their own path and happiness, is strictly prohibited.

Not creating your own story,
Ceasing to give thanks to God for your life,
Not having just one moment for the people who need you,
Not understanding that what life gives, life can take away, is strictly prohibited.

Not looking for your own happiness,
Not living your life with a positive attitude,
Not believing that we can be better,
Not feeling that without you, this world would never be the same, is all strictly prohibited.