Just let me have a bleeding heart
For those who die alone
In times of corona.
I would like to be with each of them
To die with each of them
So they are not alone.
For what is and should not be
Is not one’s pain
Is not one’s dying
But one’s abandonment
To die alone.
So let me be with you.
I am your family and friends
Your wife who died a while ago
Your dog, your memories
Your days at the beach when all was well
So you are not alone.
As always in suffering
I wonder Where is God?
Did He forget in a blink of His eye
This little planet
Somewhere in His universe?
Or may He be with you
And also die with you
So you are not alone.
One shouldn’t analyze a poem. Also, it should not need to be analyzed. A good poem speaks for itself. What it says cannot be put in prose. Otherwise, it would be better to, indeed, put it in prose.
So, these are just some thoughts of mine
Looking at statistics, people – including me – tend to think of numbers. After a while, a dead person is a dead person. Stars keep on shining. The earth will make its circles around the sun for a while longer. There will be many more deaths.
But this comes different to me. Maybe also to you.
This is about many people presently dying in loneliness. It has probably never happened before on such a scale.
Who can get over it? Who wants to get over it? Is it right to even want to get over it?
Each person can only talk for himself. I can imagine dying in loneliness but will only know it at the end. Still, I want to make a difference between ‘alone’ and ‘lonely.’ That might bring some comfort.
One can die alone and yet not be lonely.
The former is physical. The latter is meaningful. Although in the human case, both are intertwined, one can focus a while on the difference in exceptional circumstances. The present may be one. There is no choice in many cases.
Being lonely is being devoid of deepest contact. Being in physical contact is not necessary for deepest contact. It is a symbolic happening. It is vertical. In principle, the vertical can exist even without the horizontal. I hope you are following me.
The horizontal can also exist without the vertical. One can be surrounded by people and be lonely.
One can be alone and not be lonely if one feels connected-by-soul (or anything else you want to call it). This being connected-by-soul can be intense. Every human being may have felt this at least once.
This extraordinary time may be an occasion to remember this.
In a way, it lifts the subject of the poem.
There is, of course, no magic involved. One can be perfectly rational and yet remember this.
It happens to be Easter at the time of writing.
Catholics remember Jesus’ dying on the cross, in loneliness. Even His last words contain the experience. It’s a beautiful poetic story. It is not Catholic. It is universal.
And the resurrection? That’s a different story.