I’m up early this morning, about 4:15am, and am not able to drive Uber because my phone fell into a snowdrift and is malfunctioning …again. I’m wondering about my mom and siblings who are making a 600 mile trek from Minneapolis to Springfield, Missouri on snow-dusted Interstate 35. They are braving the elements to pay last respects for my cousin Stephen. He was an exceptionally gifted and eternally curious man who packed a lot of life into 58 years. Still too soon. Far too soon.
Cousin, may I tip my hat to you with the words of Yeats? I only found this poem because: the snowfall, my phone dying, moisture in USB port, and a kind message in Spanish from a new friend halfway around the world. (Please follow the link to Juan Re Crivello.) G-d, You don’t make our paths easy, but You make them meaningful! Amen!
An Irish Airman foresees his Death
By William Butler Yeats
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before…
Please follow the link and finish this poem?