725 Today in the Obituaries. . .
In the Columbus Dispatch Obituaries for January 13 a local resident "fell asleep in the Lord," another "was promoted to Glory," one was "welcomed into Heaven," another was "reunited with his beloved" and several had a version of "went home to be with the Lord Jesus Christ." Mostly, people just "passed away," the ever popular euphemism for death, and a few "departed this life," which is a vague hint there may be another hope for the next flight. Eight years ago when I checked the obituaries, I discovered most people were dying without a verb to help them in their journey. So today's paper, although only a snapshot of what is happening this week, shows a slight increase in spirituality. The verbs are much more dynamic, descriptive and other-worldly. I wrote a poem about lack of verbs in obituaries in 1997.September 28, 1997
Emmy Lou departed this world;
Frank entered his eternal rest;
Polly is at home with the Lord.
Ray’s gone to his home in glory;
Ted is asleep with the angels;
Ann Louise simply crossed over.
And I am left to wonder why
They sent him off without a verb--
“Ralph David, May 15, at home.”
When my earth's book is overdue,
Please open heaven’s library;
Let me live in God’s promises.
When finally I fold this tent,
Lease me a heavenly mansion
Renewable eternally.
When I slip out of the saddle,
Boost me up high to ride bareback
On a steed into the stronghold.
When the last crumbs have been swept up,
Seat me at the banquet table
To listen with the disciples.
When the final ticket’s been bought,
Give me the best seat in the house
To hear the angels’ choir sing.
When I’ve gathered up the harvest,
Fill my buckets, silos and bins
To overflowing with God’s love.
When the bow breaks in the treetops,
Bear me up on wings of eagles
Never faint, tired or weary.
Pine box, urn, or fancy casket,
Paragraph, note or just a line;
Don’t send me off without a verb!
At home with the Lord. Hope to see you there.
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10 comments:
I like that, Norma! I hope you had it published somewhere.
No, but I read it a an open mic poetry reading a few years ago. I got some pretty blank looks, I tell you. I don't know if it is the death topic or the reminder that verbs have a function, but no one likes this poem except you and I.
... and I. All but that "wings of eagles" line. It reminds me of the song, which is horrible and gives me hives.
I like it too. The image or riding bareback into the stronghold...that's a good one.
Very perceptive reading of obituaries, too. Interesting how no one ever just "dies." What's the big deal with "death" anyway, that it's such a four-letter word?
Over at Esther's Urban Kvetch http://myurbankvetch.blogspot.com/ she has linked back to this blog and is taking comments for good lines for obituaries. One she suggested was "is dancing with Jessica Tandy," and another "went to that great golf course in the sky."
Twylah--I took that from Isaiah 40:31.
Being "of a different faith" is irrelevant. Your poem was very meaningful.
Being a person who loves "words" I loved your poem from, I believe, the angle from which you wrote it!
Good job!
Hi Norma,
This obit post caught my eye because I adore words and I also read the obits for various reasons. Interesting observation and sad, too! Are you planning to publish an article based on your research?
I think your poem is clever and I also enjoyed its rhythm.
Artistically,
Gel { * * }
Oh, Norma, I read the comment thread after posting (which is my style) and noticed that you addressed the very topic I edited out of my comment. So here it goes:
Death is part of life, to me, so a poem on that topic would not dissuade me. I'm also very interested in grammar besides words, so I find your title and observation interesting.
As far as the open mike "frosty" reception of your poem, please remember that one reading with one audience does not determine how good your writing is! It's very hard for many of us to get up there and read our work, our souls bared, outloud.
I hope you keep reading at open mikes and attempt publishing. My artwork and writing has been rejected from places and accepted to others. That's reality. I hang in there and hope you do, too.
Artistically,
Gel { * * }
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