asia bird
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My mom sent this poem to me, and it expresses exactly how I feel right now.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
– W.H. Auden
(thanks mom)
that’s a beautiful poem; have i recommended the book the year of magical thinking by joan didion? it is excellent (i read it when my godmother died last year); one of the best parts is how she talks about how mourning is no longer recognized in our society, and how she misses wearing black, etc.