Today I felt so alive as I ran in the snow. I could almost hear the beating of my heart and each breath I could see as it left me. It made me remember the first ever hospital visit I made as a minister. It was very near the end of my degree course in divinity. The church I was going to be apreacher in had organised a conference for new ministers to be. During it we were to make a pastoral visit to an hospital patient. A number of patients had been asked if they would agree to such a visit. It was to last about fifteen minutes, and we were to report back to the group.
I was to visit a young lady who had been in the hospital long term. That was all I was told. I met her, and instantly we seemed to feel at ease. An hour later I left. She had shared so many memories with me. The next day I returned with this poem. It was read at her funeral a few weeks later and given to her sons.
I do not know why, but today I remembered that event, I share it with you. I do not know why but I do.
I Remember (No More)
I watch the drops of rain run down the window pane.
Small river following their unmapped course,
I have watched this window day by day
for long and weary months.
I saw the man with the mower in the summer sun,
and remembered the stacks of grass we threw
in other summer suns.
I remember other things we threw,
the stones that crashed against the glass.
I hear again the sound and feel the fear
of being caught.
Running breathless – hiding.
I have watched the leaves falling from yonder tree.
Watched as the last one held on.
Willing it to stay for me.
I remember the smell of dying leaves kicked with joyful rustle.
Through this “pain”, this pane.
I have watched the changing seasons go.
spring became summer and then autumn
to this the winter of my life.
I remember sledging with children,
laughing, cold, yet full of fun.
No more for me the things of life.
No more to lie and hold my lover fast.
No more the sounds of summer joys
or children’s hugs.
No more, for life is swiftly ebbing on.
But, no more do I fear
for things to be, tomorrow or the next.
For through the pain
I have caught a glimpse.
And seen beyond the morrow.
My heart has heard a whispered voice.
That talks of more to be.
I will be remembered, cherished , loved
By the boys who are yet to be.
I am aware this can be a sad poem but as you can see, I hope it comes back to me in moments of intense joy. The young lady still inspires me and fills me with hope and courage, even though it was some 40 years and more I met her.
This blog is linked to my other. Living in Difficult Situations.