It’s approaching
the graduation of some of my friends here at Durham, and it is likely that I will
not see them again. I’ve never been that sentimental about leaving friends
before, but a big thing I’ve learned this year is to appreciate people. I used
to think I could live a hermit’s life, because human relationships didn’t
really matter. But that’s changed over the past year as I got to know the guys
and girls in our international Bible study group at church.
I also remember
those who were important in my life at some point, but then time and choice
have caused us to drift apart. So I’d like to share two poems about parting,
the first is an elegy; the second about not being able to escape memories. I
don’t think there can be a remedy for the pain of parting, at least not till
Jesus’ returns. Till then, I think we can and should feel the sting of
departure – yet not despair.
Silence and
Stealth of Days! – Henry Vaughan
Silence and
stealth of days! ’Tis now,
Since thou art gone,
Twelve hundred
hours, and not a brow
But clouds hang on.
As he that in
some cave’s thick damp,
Lock’d from the light,
Fixeth a
solitary lamp
To brave the night,
And walking from
his Sun, when past
That glimm’ring ray,
Cuts through the
heavy mists in haste
Back to his day;
So o’er fled
minutes I retreat
Unto that hour,
Which show’d
thee last, but did defeat
Thy light and pow’r.
I search, and
rack my soul to see
Those beams again;
But nothing but
the snuff to me
Appeareth plain:
That, dark and
dead, sleeps in its known
And common urn;
But those, fled
to their Maker’s throne,
There shine, and burn:
O could I track
them! but souls must
Track one the other;
And now the
spirit, not the dust,
Must be thy brother.
But I have one
pearl, by Whose light
All things I see;
And in the heart
of earth and night
Find heaven, and thee.
The End of the
Pier – Nicole Callihan
I walked to the
end of the pier
and threw your
name into the sea,
and when you
flew back to me –
a silver fish – I
devoured you,
cleaned you to
the bone. I was through.
But then you
came back again:
as sun on water.
I reached for you,
skimmed my hands
over the light of you.
And when the sky
darkened,
again, I thought
it was over, but then,
you became
water. I closed my eyes
and lay on top
of you, swallowed you,
let you swallow
me too. and when
you carried my
body back to shore –
as I trusted
that you would do –
well, then, you
became shore too,
and I knew, finally, I would never be through.
