Poem

Mary Oliver's poem "When Death Comes"

When death comes…. I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering: what it's going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything as a brotherhood and a sisterhood, and I look upon time as no more than an idea, and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth, tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body as a lion of courage, and something precious to the earth.