Knowing Death is Definite

Due to an act of X-treme Stupity I'm 'smitten with sittin' today

because of a sore foot.

(in case you are wondering why another poem is written😏)

Inspired, in part by today's post by Ann Voskamp

"For nothing is nothing, darling 

No matter how small it seems"

 

This photos were sent to me yesterday after they left

taken by 'mom' unbeknownst to me😄

(Photo credit: B. H. mom of tots)

Knowing Death is definite- 

ly pending, ending time and grace 

Does it make us want to make some- 

-thing of all we touch and trace 

For nothing is nothing, darling 

No matter how small it seems 

And no one knows how much living 

Is left on the loom of dreams 

Does it makes us want to savour 

The full flavor of Today 

Labour with love’s renewed fervor 

Before one is called away 

Does it make the bitter better 

Knowing that 'this too shall pass' 

Knowing death is definite 

-ly Somewhere in life’s hour-glass 

Does it bid us garnish turmoil 

With the goodness of a smile 

And get soft and sweetly smitten 

By this ver’ precarious While 

Does it make us don warm mittens 

And make angels in the snow 

Before our names are written 

In some tear-rimmed afterglow 

Knowing Death is Definite 

-ly pending, ending all of us 

How in the world are we getting 

Ready for our exodus 

Does it draw us (in what sometimes 

Feels like small significance) 

Into the Moment-ous music

Of a Very Sacred Dance 

© Janet Martin

“100 per cent of us die, and the percentage cannot be increased. ”

― C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory