When my father died, a good friend and fellow celebrant (hello Sarah!) sent me a lovely book called "All in the end is harvest - An anthology for those who grieve" (*). It is the perfect book to dip in and out of, as happy as it is sad and reflective. This poem stood out for me when I last picked up the book. "Not speaking as much as sharing" is the line that really resonates with you. The poem is wholly inappropriate for the time of year, but I really didn't want to wait six months before sharing it with you!
(*) The book is edited by Agnes Whitaker and well worth having a copy of your book shelf.
Sharing by Brenda Lismer
Autumn
was our time of year
Working
together in the old walled garden
Not
speaking so much as sharing
The
silence and September warmth
The
gentleness of slow decay
At
summer’s passing.
I
was the debris man clearing the way
You
turned the dark earth with your spade
Slow
and steady knowing your pace
Turned
tramp in your awful gardening clothes
Which
somehow become dear.
I
miss your patient figure
As
I harvest alone
Miss
the shared silence
And
the coming together at day’s end.
Today I am mostly thinking about tomorrow's ceremony. A lovely man, who has died aged 37 from cancer. Sometimes life doesn't make much sense...
