Sort of Villanelle to Dylan Thomas (“Do not go gentle”) and Sylvia Plath (“Lady Lazarus”)
Your death may fit you like a shoe.
You’ve gone your way and now you’re through.
Be still, there’s nothing you can do.
The one poet spoke of dying as her art,
The other advised rage- their art came through.
But your death may fit you gently as a shoe.
Why not spend last moments in praise?
Like monks chant the day through…
Be still, there’s nothing you can do.
8 times a day, chant: “ Lauds, Nones or Vespers,
Mark off, the cadence of their days
Complines, Vigils fits them like a shoe.
And you, at night your heart beats through
Your pillow like footsteps, footsteps coming for you.
Be still there’s nothing you can do.
Rachmaninoff and Mahler showed you what to do
At least compose a dying fall—not anger but acceptance
Your death may fit you gently like a shoe.
Be still, there’s nothing you can do.
Lighter after thots, variants:
Relax, there’s nothing you must/should do
O go ahead gently into that good night.
Mom said “Everything’s going to be alright”.
David Eberhardt, 83. was a member of the Baltimore Four with Father Philip Berrigan, Tom Lewis and Rev. James Mengel. The group poured blood on draft files on October 27, 1967 and were convicted and sent to Federal prison. Eberhardt has been active on the Baltimore poetry scene since the 1960’s when he wrote for underground newspapers.
Image: Mmangan333, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
