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Here Is Life


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Dear friends,

I woke up this morning to the realization that one cannot look at death without looking at life--any more than one can look at life without looking at death. Hope this lifts you up this morning.

Peace,

Harry

Here is Life

Here is life—

Not mere breathing

Eating, sleeping—

Not a job—

But a work—

A child’s vision

That sees a blade

In leaves of grass--

That chases snowflakes—

Weeping as they melt—

That sees the color

Of stars against

The dark blue sky

Of night.

Here is life—

A thing that hungers,

That thirsts,

That risks all,

Every day

For one more breath—

That savors every smell,

Delights in every taste,

Treasures every touch,

Devours every sound,

Consumes every sight--

That teaches stars

What it is to burn.

Here is life—

The ebb and flow

Of joy and laughter,

Of sorrow and tears,

Of youth and age at once--

The first steps--

The first bike--

The first love--

The learning

And the learning

And the learning—

That wakes in your arms

Like starlight

Turning into sunlight.

Here is life—

Live.

Copyright 2012 by Harry Proudfoot

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Harry, these two book end poems are extremely powerful and sensitive...filled with despair/hope, pain/joy, fear/confidence. Thank you so much for sharing them.

Peace

Mary

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Thanks Mary. Glad you found value in them. They certainly helped me find a new perspective. They went well when i read them tonight at the Kick-off Dinner for the local Relay for Life.

Peace,

Harry

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So glad it went well tonight. I would think there would be tears in that audience...lots of tears. Sleep well.

Mary

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I notice there are more responses to the death poem than the life one, perhaps because that is the one most can relate to here.

In reading this, I can't help but feel these words depict George. He had so much zest for life, I often felt it was like viewing life through the wonder of a two year old's eyes all over again! It was contagious, he evoked life in those around him. He had a love for everything, every starry night, every sunset, every thunder storm, every snowfall, every season, every leaf changing color. Getting the Christmas tree and putting it up. Getting groceries. A good meal...which, by the way, he loved and appreciated them all. A good movie and a batch of cookies. Surprising me with something. Going to the coast. Going for a drive. Making someone happy.

Life has become dull in comparison to life with him...it's like the spark you talk about here...no longer exists. George was the one who chased the first snowflake, who rode that bike, who had first love...he was the one who experienced life...and imparted it to us all. He is the one who teaches stars to burn.

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Kay, I suspect your presence in George's life had a lot to do with that spark and zest. I was going through photos the other day and the ones of Bill in his childhood and in his previous marriage showed an expressionless face, sad and bland. I hardly recognize him in those photos. Then the photos of our wedding and every photo after that the zest for life, the warm kind smile everyone knew him for, the excitement about life was all over his face and being. I would bet you ignited that spark in George and he ignited yours.

Peace

Mary

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Mary,

I never really thought about it like that, but I suppose you're right...we just interacted so well with each other, we were a positive impact on each other. I miss him beyond comprehension...so do my kids. It's funny, my kids were 17 and 19 when I married George, my daughter had already left home, and yet he touched their lives so much, they fell in love with him, they saw what I saw. Most kids that age would not be interested in getting a stepparent, let alone, gleaning such a deep relationship with one.

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