My favourite line is...

With each new death
I added my grief
To the grief of millions

               
During the Assassinations
~ Maxine Kumin

My favourite line is...

And when you come to me
             To show you true,
Doubt not I shall infallibly
             Be waiting you.

When Dead
~ Thomas Hardy

http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2011/06/02



q

My favourite line is...

Well, now you do. In fact,
in some versions of this story,
beings of faith and light
are in the kitchen, dancing
with your wife. Then your
friends arrive, still lugging
around their own dilemmas,
hoping you will feed them
from the common pot, like
in the old days. And as tired
as you are, you think you can

Lunch Will Be Served
~ Eleanor Lerman

As seen on:  http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2011/06/01

My favourite line is...

Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier,
As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole
          
"Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night" by Walt Whitman.

http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2011/05/31

My favourite line is...

Now there is time and Time is young.
O, in this single hour I live
All of myself and do not move.
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!

Now I Become Myself
~ May Sarton

As seen here: http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2011/06/04

My favourite line is...

I'm martyr to a motion not my own;
What's freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.

I Knew a Woman" by Theodore Roethke

http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2011/05/25

My favourite line is...

coming. But first, a reflection on being a deacon...

One thing that I was completely unprepared for, though I imagine I would have known had I given things a bit more careful thought, was that being a deacon will bring death and dying so much closer to the door of ones being. One of my jobs as a deacon is to write birthday cards, anniversary cards and sympathy cards. It, my role as a deacon, has been going on six months now, and I have had to watch so many fellow parishoner's "pass into the church triumphant". Before this role, I was lost in my own little world that went to church because my mother asked, because the one I attend is filled with the ghosts of my maternal ancestors and it fells so right as an anthropologist to honor that... but, I was so completely unprepared for what this role brought me. I had to get to know people a little bit better, I had to learn of their sorrows and joys, how to write their names correctly on a card, and smile and laugh with them. I had thought that my lesson from this role would be that I would learn to become a letter writer, something I have always wanted to be, but needed some push to guide me there... I feel guided, but at a huge price... a price I think I find worthwhile.

and now, the poem (or rather, a selection of a poem) that caused these reflections...

Lead us to those we are waiting for,
Those who are waiting for us.

Flannery's Angel
~ Charles Wright
    
As seen here: http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2011/05/24

My favourite line is...

But eating and drinking until thou dost nod,
Thou break'st all thy girdles and break'st forth a god.

Hymn to the Belly
~ Ben Jonson.

As seen here: http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2011/06/11