A Posthumous Posting for All Souls Sunday

Well, I started feeling very industrious for NaBloPoMo at the outset of this month, but unfortunately I have only managed to blog once so far. I fully intended to post something these last few days, but I have simply not had the time I feel is necessary to post anything worthwhile. I would feel lazy and as if I shortchanged myself and this blog if I just threw up one random picture or something just to meet the requirements for the blog posting challenge. If I miss a day here or there, and for good reason, I don’t take it as a personal failing. To evoke the philosophy of Scarlett O’Hara, there’s always tomorrow.

With that being said, at this past Sunday’s church service there was an Apocryphal reading from the book of Ecclesiasticus that really stuck with me when I heard it, and I felt it would be something worth sharing with others. Not only did it strike me as being very timely with the festival day, but also how appropriate that I would hear it the same day as my paternal grandfather’s memorial service. And so, here is the reading.

Ecclesiasticus 44:1-10, 13-14

Let us now sing the praises of famous men,
our ancestors in their generations.
The Lord apportioned to them great glory,
his majesty from the beginning.
There were those who ruled in their kingdoms,
and made a name for themselves by their valour;
those who gave counsel because they were intelligent;
those who spoke in prophetic oracles;
those who led people by their counsels
and by their knowledge of the people’s lore;
they were wise in their words of instruction;
those who composed musical tunes,
or put verses in writing;
rich men endowed with resources,
living peacefully in their homes –
all these were honoured in their generations,
and were the pride of their times.
Some of them have left behind a name,
so that others declare their praise.
But of others there is no memory;
they have perished as though they had never existed;
they have become as though they had never been born,
they and their children after them.
But these also were godly men,
whose righteous deeds have not been forgotten;
Their offspring will continue forever,
and their glory will never be blotted out.
Their bodies are buried in peace,
but their name lives on generation after generation.

+ K +

Days of the Dead

For my inaugural post for NaBloPoMo, and in recognition of today being both All Saints’ and the second day of Dia de Muertos, I present a prose poem written the other day while thinking on the subject of death and the afterlife.

Sometimes my mind wanders to thoughts of the other side.

Is it there?

Is it all that people say?

Gazing outside the window, I wonder:
What could be more beautiful
than turned leaves,
trees of green?

Will it feel as nice as
sun-warmed skin on an autumn day;
spring breezes fluttering
through lively dancing leaves;
warm bath water on chilled skin?

Will it taste as good as
freshly brewed coffee?
Or vanilla ice cream?

Is there rock ‘n roll up there?
Do they have no cause for the blues?
Will there be colors?
Or only bright and blinding light?

Will I even know I’m there?

Or will I no longer be me at all –
just part of the One?

Perhaps time is better spent
being here,
being now.

Even for the briefest time;
our lives mere moments
caught like dust in the sun,
seen for a second –
you blink.
And you’re gone.

Enjoy the flight.
Enjoy the sights.
Too soon, it will be done.

+ K +