Poetry Friday is hosted by Anastasia at Booktalking
|Photograph by Jon Katz @ Bedlam Farm Journal|
Now, I don't know the Katzs and I have never visited their farm, but the cyber world with its posts, and photographs and videos allows us a feeling of " knowing" people we will never meet. And, by reading Jon's posts about this journey with Rocky, I felt as though this was all transpiring right across the way from our house in New Jersey - I could imagine the barn, Rocky's last days at pasture, the sweet moments he shared with his beloved family. From Jon's posts, though, it was clear that Rocky's end was peaceful - he was surrounded by those he loved, and great tenderness. Lucky Rocky.
Not every man knows what he shall sing at the end,
Watching the pier as the ship sails away, or what it will seem like
When he’s held by the sea’s roar, motionless, there at the end,
Or what he shall hope for once it is clear that he’ll never go back.
When the time has passed to prune the rose or caress the cat,
When the sunset torching the lawn and the full moon icing it down
No longer appear, not every man knows what he’ll discover instead.
When the weight of the past leans against nothing, and the sky
Is no more than remembered light, and the stories of cirrus
And cumulus come to a close, and all the birds are suspended in flight,
Not every man knows what is waiting for him, or what he shall sing
When the ship he is on slips into darkness, there at the end.