Birth & Death

This week I received news of life ending with the death of my childhood friend’s grandmother and life beginning with the birth of my daughter’s godfather’s own daughter.  Within a few days, one feminine spirit left our living world, while another feminine spirit joined us.

Earlier this year I came across this poem about what constitutes a life lived.  It was written through the wisdom of an 85 year-old woman named Nadine Stair.  It’s called: “If I Had My Life to Live Over.” 

The poet writes:

I’d dare to make more mistakes next time.

I’d relax. I would limber up.

I would be sillier than I have been this trip.

I would take fewer things seriously.

I would take more chances.

I would take more trips.

I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers.

I would eat more ice cream and less beans.

I would perhaps have more actual troubles but I’d

have fewer imaginary ones.

You see, I’m one of those people who live sensibly

and sanely hour after hour, day after day.

Oh, I’ve had my moments and if I had it to do over

again, I’d have more of them. In fact,

I’d try to have nothing else. Just moments.

One after another, instead of living so many

years ahead of each day.

I’ve been one of those people who never go anywhere

without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat

and a parachute.

If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot

Earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall.

If I had it to do again, I would travel lighter next time.

I would go to more dances.

I would ride more merry-go-rounds.

I would pick more daisies.

This week, as I contemplated the paradoxically mysterious and organic life cycle of birth and death, I wrote this responsive poem to that above of Ms. Stair:

We are but visitors here-

or maybe even guests.

We have only a handful of days,

years or decades to walk this earth;

though we are not told our length of stay when we arrive.

Except,

we know for certain,

it will be brief.

What will we do with our “one wild precious life?” Ms. Oliver asks us.

Will we be trite, by shouting “carpe diem,”

and telling others to go sky diving as Tim McGraw sings?

I know not.

Two truths I do know for sure…

As guests,

we are all welcome by god, and worthy of love and belonging.

And,

let the record show,

I do not plan to run this race in vain.

So, to our newest guest, a baby girl, I say, “welcome to the world.” And to the departing guest, an elderly grandmother, I say, “safe journey.”