Sadness

I grew up in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts where the Kennedy’s also grew up. The people in the Boston area, which is Eastern Massachusetts, had a Boston accent. The people in Western Massachusetts where I was born did not have an accent. Yet that accent is very dear to me.

What is so haunting about the fact of death? Over and over again, it is.

When a public figure like Ted Kennedy dies, it does seem like we mourn together.  We do find communal tears from somewhere.

God in Heavenletters™ asks us, “Why mourn?” He says that death is only like going into another room. That’s all.

And yet…

In an earlier blog entry ( http://www.godwriting.org/godwriting/the-anniversary-of-my-fathers-death-grieving.htm) I posted a poem called Spring and Fall, to a Young Child by Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1844-1889.

This poem begins:

Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving? …

It ends with:

It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

Another poem I treasure is Buffalo Dusk by Carl Sandburg, 1878 to 1967.

This is the poem for my sadness today: 

THE BUFFALOES are gone.
And those who saw the buffaloes are gone.
Those who saw the buffaloes by thousands and how
they pawed the prairie sod into dust with their hoofs,
their great heads down pawing on in a great pageant of dusk,
Those who saw the buffaloes are gone.
And the buffaloes are gone.

And the poets who wrote these poems are gone.

Posted by Gloria on August 27th, 2009 under these topics
poetry, Heaven Letters, Godwriting Journal
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Reply from One on August 27, 2009

I wonder if this is the same kind of sadness I feel when I see bird nests lying on the road. A wee bit of sadness now and then is part of the joy. I’m pretty sure its a seasonal thing and part of the cycle.

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