This past week I have revelled in the deep richness of the fall foliage. Today, realizing it is All Souls Day, I remembered this poem I wrote on this day last year. It is a rare event when I write a poem, but sometimes the thoughts and words just seems to organize themselves in verses. On that day the words seemed to fall together as some sort of gift from the muse, just as the leaves are falling to the ground outside my window at this moment, with some help from the intermittent gusts of wind.
Today I am taking some time to remember
all those souls I have known
who have moved on from this mixed bag of beauty and sorrow:
Lea, Peter, Nana and Grandad, Granny and Grampa,
Grampa Warren, Great-Grandad Matthew, Nana Brown,
Pat, Laurel, and Jason
For whom we now Pray.
Also those souls I did not know but think of nonetheless:
my brother Michael who was born and died long before I came along,
(Would I be here had he lived?)
various ancestors whose DNA I share with my children
and authors and artists who filled the treasure chest of thought and vision
I look to for inspiration and comfort -
'We read to know we are not alone,' says C.S. Lewis' student in Shadowlands.
And then there are those with no one to remember them
in November we look upon the trees
singing their swan song in ruby red dress
Spirits waving in the fields
seem to say 'Vanity, vanity, all is vanity,'
'Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die'
My heart reaches out to lift them up and set them free
to the place where I hope to go
someday long from now
if only someone will remember me