The wisdom of Eternity


so how are you now?
if death is kind you do not rest in peace,
you were given too little joy on earth for that to be your fate –
maybe you’ll do it later
when your need for fun is fulfilled.

I hear your laughter echo in the distance
as you direct naughty winds to silly, harmless deeds,
lifting policemens’ hats from their heads;
playing tricks with impish glee;
dropping feathers on my shoulder
to see how long they cling;
stealing rides on tops of trains;
altering the colours of hidden underwear;
opening buds, thatΒ  petals may gleam in the wrong season;
flying to distant lands that only live in dreams,
to return when the moon is on the wane.
smiling with the wisdom of eternity,
as you stroke the hair from our sleeping faces,
wishing to ease away the vestiges of pain
and yet knowing, as we do not
that within the backdrop of all that is
our hurt is but a little thing.

Β©Jane Paterson Basil


31 thoughts on “The wisdom of Eternity

    1. Thank you – it’s about someone dear to me, who died twenty years ago next month at the age of nineteen. He’s much in my thoughts at present, because of the time of year, and because he’s now been dead for longer than he was alive, and that feels weird. I’m proud of this poem, but it’s his, not mine. He directed the words πŸ™‚

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    1. Thank you for those kind words. I’m glad I knew him. He was my daughter’s partner, and he left a legacy – my eldest grandson, who was born seven weeks after his father died πŸ™‚


      1. The most precious legacy of all – a child. How blessed you are to have your grandson! Being a grandma is such a gift. My grandkids are coming this week to visit – I’m so excited to see them!

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    1. Yes, Big Mark’s son, young Mark.
      Thank you Calen – I want everyone to like this poem. I feel as if the more people read it, the more he is in this world.
      I’ve seen a lot of death in my time – most of us have by the time we reach our sixties, and I’ve grieved. The loss of my mother was hard, but the grieving process is done, as it is with everyone else I’ve loved and lost. But Mark – although I can smile about him I expect I’ll grieve his loss until the day I die.

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        1. That hadn’t occurred to me. I thought it was because he shouldn’t have been taken from this life. He’d had a horrific childhood, full of physical violence and mental cruelty while the neighbours turned a blind eye, perhaps afraid to fall out with his cruel stepfather. That man had been notorious even as a child, when my brother came home with stories of the things he’d done. Mark s life was snatched away the moment he found happiness.
          It always gets me like this when the anniversary of his death approaches.
          Maybe you’re right though – we had some weird things happen after he died – hats circling the ceiling, flying ornaments and more. It was as if he was trying to make us laugh. It went on for a few weeks, the signs gradually becoming weaker and more easily explained, until all we got was an occasional sense of him entering a room, and then a sense that he’d left. It stopped two or three weeks before little Mark was born.
          It’s ok if you don’t believe me – I find it hard to believe and I know that grief can do strange things.

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          1. Who says I don’t believe you? I had one scary arse visit from my dad’s mom right after Bran was born. I did a blog post about it. I do believe in that stuff. We’re all energy. It’s gotta go somewhere when we pass…

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            1. I always put in a get-out clause when I talk about the things that happened after Mark’s passing, because the subject annoys or embarasses some people, but som of those events were crazy, and I got visitations from queues of dead people at night-time, begging me to do things for them, but I couldn’t understand they were saying – with the exception of one First World war soldier. He passed me his request through visions. It was a harrowing time.
              Did you get on with your Grandma when she was alive?

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  1. Sometimes, even years later, it doesn’t feel right that a particular person is no longer in the world, does it? How can it possibly be? How can the world turn without them? A beautiful tribute, Jane. So well written it’s painful.
    Do you ever submit your poetry to competitions? There are plenty out there and you’re really very good. X

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    1. Thank you Lynne – no, I don’t submit my poems to competitions. I used to search for lists of competitions, but then something confusing would happen in my life, and I’d mix up the rules, writing 200 words when 1,000 were required for one, and 1,000 instead of 200 for another, or else I’d miss the deadlines. I think I should have another go, and try to focus this time.
      So – Paul Kaye is Vinculus. What perfect casting πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Your work would be great for comps – in my humble opinion πŸ™‚ Though I appreciate how difficult it can be juggling them and the rules and regs – it’s a bit of a headache with short stories.
        And I’m glad you can see Paul Kaye’s right as Vinculus – I thought so too. He’s become such a good actor πŸ™‚

        Liked by 1 person

        1. He’d love to be told that – when I met him, he was so humble, placing second-rate actors he’d worked with in Two Thousand Acres of Sky way above him. For example, Michelle Collins…
          If I can get through a few hours with no echoes of drama I’ll take a look at some poetry comps πŸ™‚

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