Mary Eileen Fox: Eternal Memory
THE PRAYER OF THE OLD HORSE
See, Lord, My coat hangs in tatters,
like homespun, old, threadbare.
All that I had of zest, all my strength,
I have given in hard work
and kept nothing back for myself.
Now my poor head swings to offer up
all the loneliness of my heart.
Dear God, stiff on my thickened legs
I stand here before You:
Your uprofitable servant.
Oh! of Your goodness,
give me a gentle death.
Amen.
--From Prayers from the Ark
By Carmen Bernos De Gasztold
Translated by Rumer Godden
posted by Bernard Brandt at 3:33 PM
1 Comments:
At her funeral, which happened this morning, I read the above poem, and prefaced it with these words:
About fifteen years ago, when Carolyn, my late wife and Mary's daughter, was still alive, one day I was reading a book of poetry to her. We did a lot of that in those blessed days. At the end of one poem, however, Carolyn started to weep silently. I asked her what was wrong, and she said: "That last poem was my mother." She made me promise that if either of us were alive when it happened, we would read that poem at her mother's funeral. Thank you for allowing me to keep that promise here today.
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