Sunday, September 13, 2009

Epitaph V

Over the next few days I began to see the poem everywhere, including a book I had just started about Alzheimer’s disease. Unknowingly, Dad had picked a poem reflective of his fate. I hoped it had given him some comfort. I knew I would be honored to read it for Dad when the time came. Until then I would take my own comfort in it, this misspelled little love letter written on a smudged and crumpled notecard, passing on a message of trust, beauty, and timelessness.
“It is time to be old, to take in sail: the god of bounds, who sets to seas a shore, came to me in his fatal rounds, and said: “No more!”….
“As the bird trims her to the gale, I trim myself to the storm of time, I man the rudder, reef the sail, obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: ‘Lowly faithful, banish fear, right onward drive unharmed; the port, well worth the cruise, is near, and every wave is charmed.’” -Ralph Waldo Emerson

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