What Is Dying
I am standing at the seashore. A ship
sails to the morning breeze and starts for
the ocean. She is an object of beauty
and I stand watching her till at last she
fades on the horizon, and someone at my
side says, “She is gone.” Gone Where?
Gone from my sight, that is all; she is just
as large in mast and hull and spar as she
was when I saw her, and just as able to
bear her load of living freight to its
destination.
The diminished size and total loss of sight
is in me, not in her; and just at the mo-
ment when someone at my side says,
“She is gone,” there are others who are
watching her coming, and other voices
take up the glad shout, “There she
comes!” – and that is dying.
—Bishop Brent
(Ed. Note: This lovely poem was distributed at the recent memorial service for Marie Dwyer Bullock.)
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