When someone dies young

I found this heartbreaking beauty,
the poem, When someone dies young,
in Robin Becker's collection,
All-American Girl 
(University of Pittsburgh, 1996),
which I have been reading
as sacred text since 12 January.

For you all, beloveds.

When someone dies young
by Robin Becker

When someone dies young
a glass of water lives
in your grasp like a stream.
The stem of a flower
is a neck you could kiss.
When someone dies young
and you work steadily
at the kitchen table
in a house calmed by music
and animals' breath,
you falter at the future,
preferring the reliable past,
films you see over and over
to feel the inevitable
turning to parable, characters
marching with each viewing
to their doom.
When someone dies young
you want to make love furiously
and forgive yourself.
When someone dies young
the great religions welcome you,
a supplicant with your bowl.
When someone dies young
the mystery of your own
good luck finds a voice
in the bird at the feeder.
The strict moral lesson
of that life's suffering
takes your hand, like a ghost,
and vows companionship
when someone dies young.


Read another of Robin's poems, Hospice, at this blog: How a poem happens