Almitra Marino David
After Reading Jung’s
Thoughts on the
we grow more contemplative
with age preparation
for life after time is
neither the tide nor the
beating of your heart nor
how a star moves slowly fast
through black yet
think of a thread of one that
sews a strange unity of dreams so
unshakable that even in sunlight
it holds together
and even in the dark
A gentle rain falls.
The yard is early-morning lush.
I want nothing to change – I want each
blade of grass to stay and the hostas near
the porch to keep opening purple flowers.
I want not to want this.
I want to accept, like the elephant whose
last set of molars has ground down,
when it is time to die. I want to
be the gracious guest who senses
when to thank the host and depart.
But I linger in doorways.
I stay seated at table when the meal is over.
I stand on the platform and wave
long after the window with my loved one’s face
has sped by.
Almitra Marino David (1941–2003) published her first book, Between the Sea and Home (Eighth Mountain Press) in 1993. Her poems and translations have been published in various journals including The American Poetry Review, American Voice, Beloit Poetry Journal, and Ellipses. She retired in 2003 after teaching Spanish at Friends Select School for 15 years. “After Reading Jung’s Thoughts on the Afterlife,” and “Morning List” copyright © 1998 by Almitra David. Reprinted from Impulse to Fly with the permission of Perugia Press, Florence, MA.