Friday, July 27, 2007

I Know Not

As I was walking the other night, after saying my prayers (I find that my solitary walk is a wonderful time to pray), I thought about whether I would be with my grandchildren to see them grow up, and whether I would ever cross the ocean again to visit places I love, and which of us (Grandpère or me) would leave the other behind, and I realized that I didn't have the answer to any of the questions, and these few little words came to me:
I Know Not

What is my life to be?
I know not. I know not.
And will I cross the sea?
I know not. I know not.
And will you stay with me?
I know not. I know not.
Alas, I see! I see!
I know not what my life shall be.

June Butler - 7-27-07
The nightly walk seems to be the place where my muse (if I can call her that) and I meet up.

I hope this post does not seem morbid, because neither my thoughts nor the poem saddened me. It's the reality of human life. We are born. We die. The time between the two is what differs for each of us.

At least Oscar, the cat, hasn't curled up beside either Grandpère or me - yet.