In the late 1990s, I came across a poem shared by a metaphysician and philosopher Stuart Wilde. It spoke volumes to me and on one of my cross country visits, I read it to my dad. Sometime later, in the early 2000s, he called asking me to send him a copy of the poem.
Fast forward to December 2017, I was visiting dad. At the time dad was using the wheelchair on a regular basis. One evening, after dinner, he inquired about that poem again. I asked him why that poem made such an impression on him. He thought it illustrated one’s undying faith in our Creator.
I recently returned from my father’s funeral services. The minister asked that his family members submit their reflections of our father in writing, to insert into the service program and those attending could read them. At the conclusion of what I wrote, I included the following poem. As far as I know, the author is unknown.
I’d love to share that poem with you …
COME TO THE CLIFF by Anonymous
“Come to the cliff,” he said.
They said, “But we’re afraid.”
“Come to the cliff,” he said.
They came.
He pushed them.
And they flew.
WOW!!!!
This is powerful!!!!!!
My body has reacted in shivers all over. IT IS TRUE!!!
In my dreams I was there before, this is what I only remember now…
thank you for this. I forgot that story — about fear and change and love. I am in the middle of grieving my partner who transitioned in December 2019. Although I have returned to my doingness and life, grief does not disappear. And the growth I am experiencing through my attention to the sensations of grief, arising and falling, arising and falling, at unpredictable times, my lightness of heart and deep sadness and loneliness — the full catastrophe of living — is quite a remarkable journey. Clinging to the edge of the cliff will just tire us out — fly!
Very good.
Thanks for your mails, connections. I know, havé not been active with you, as Life must go on …but always alert with your messages.