BusterStronghart@Gmail.com

Forgetting

A clock keeps striking

And the echoes move in files

Their faces have been lost

Flowers of salt

Tongues from lost languages

Doorways closed with pieces of night.

W.S. Merwin

(For Bob, Peter, Danny, Richie) 

You left just as the stars were beginning to go

You left as the colors, sand and rocks

And the shades of late summer.

W.S.Merwin

BusterStronghart@Gmail.com

Thinking about death again. It's ultimate reality. Whereas in the past I have always felt a bewilderment about it, recently I have read the phrase "numbing authority." Now I feel more comfortable with the thought Death speaks to me with a "numbing authority."  What I had described as "a bewilderment" was actually a numbness. Like the proverbial deer frozen in the headlights.

Others  say, 'well,get on with it."   I'm stuck.