The Swan

"The Swan"

by Rainer Maria Rilke

This laboring of ours with all that remains undone,

as if still bound to it,

is like the lumbering gait of the swan.

And then our dying—releasing ourselves

from the very ground on which we stood—

is like the way he hesitantly lowers himself

into the water. It gently receives him,

and, gladly yielding, flows back beneath him,

as wave follows wave,

while he, now wholly serene and sure,

with regal composure,

allows himself to glide.

http://being.publicradio.org/programs/2010/wild-love-for-world/poem_the-swan.shtml

Things are good here. Beautiful days with golden and red leaves, warm fires at 6 am and warm sun at noon. Lovely loving friends and family. David clear enough to say he loves us over and over. And thank you, and I'm sorry. For a moment he's the David I know so well. The one who listens deeply, looks me in the eye, opens his heart, will hear anything and love and love and make sure I feel him here. And then he's gone again, blank eyes, empty space.

A friend sent this poem today. It's beautiful and amazing, familiar. And I also notice I feel sad and angry. I'll include here what I wrote to him: Thank you for the poem. Tears came so immediately, recognition, . . . and then confusion. It seems right to me that this isn't our true home, that we are akward here, it's a struggle so often, this being human. And the going home, familiar, serene. So then sadness comes and I wonder, why are we here then, if it's so hard so often? A relief to think of David going home soon to be gently received!! And what about the rest of us?? :-) !!

We are appreciating the hospice support people. They are helping to make sense of all this, and also acknowledging that there is some that we are to experience, and not make sense of.

Love to all,

Tara