For dust you are and to dust you shall return.
And so they did some of my loved ones
And so will I
Can I accept just not knowing anything about the after
Can I live with the descriptions other people have made
People who do not know
Or should I enter the dark world of sleeping I have experienced
And find a glimpse there.
A life real only for me, but oh so real
Mysterious, no doubt
Controlled, not in the least
I have written a poem to my father
About him asleep because
He had expressed a fear he might not wake up one day
In the poem I said “Fear not, it is not death yet”
This summer my father died
It is death now
As he lay unconscious, this time we knew he would not wake
He sighed so expressively when Sister Jeanine, a nun, spoke to him and for him
Saying “I know what it is you want…
And you can ask for it
But God will decide.”
Yes, my father was ready and willing
Let us pray that when the time comes however early or unexpected
We shall be ready and willing.
Margot Krebs Neale
We celebrate spring’s returning and the rejuvenation of the natural world.
Let us be moved by this vast and gentle insistence that goodness shall return,
that warmth and life shall succeed.
Help us to understand our place in this miracle.
Let us see that as a bird now builds its nest, bravely,
with bits and piece, so we must build human faith.
It is our simple duty;
it is the highest art;
it is our natural and vital role within the miracle of spring;
the creation of faith.
Michael Leunig When I Talk to You: A Cartoonist Talks to God
Prendre assez de hauteur
Pour échapper aux profondeurs
Qui seraient notre prison
Sans bruler la construction
Sans laquelle nous sommes piétons
Comme on inspire et on expire
Comme on respire
Je crois que j'ai dit ce que j'avais à dire
M Krebs Neale
Let us take enough height
To escape the depth
Which would be our prison
Without burning the construction
Without which we are pedestrians
As you breath in and you breath out
I hope I've said what I had to say
M. Krebs Neale