Tuesday, May 9, 2023

I probably posted this before

but it deserves to be read again. A poem by a friend of mine in college.

WHEN PEOPLE DIE

          When people die

          It’s like a bird flying into a window

                   On the coldest morning of the year.

          When people die

          It’s like the bears have escaped from the zoo

                   And are eating children on the street.

          When people die

          It’s like a maniac has taken over the power station

                   And the lights go off and on and off

                   And on and off.

          When people die.

 

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About Me

some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.