Thank you, Adrian Plass

What do we do about Death?

What do we do about death?
We don’t -
The monster is hidden away.
It's not in the zoo for the public to view
The look on its face would empty the place.
We don’t want to die, the people would cry
Death is the curse in the back of the hearse
We don’t need to see it today.

What do we do about death?
We don’t -
We shovel it under the ground
Under the sod and hope there’s a God
Whose principles bend at the bitterest end
Or we burn it away, and whispering say
Death is the scream at the end of the dream
There isn’t a lonelier sound.

What do we do about death?
We don’t -
We don’t even give it a name
He’s gone before to a distant shore
She’s passed away, we gloomily say,
He’s fallen asleep in a terminal heap.
Death is the spear that is poisoned with fear
It pierces the heart of the game.

What do we do about death?
We don’t -
But once in the angry sun
A winner was slain at the center of pain
When a battle was fought at the final resort
But because of the cross it was fought without loss
And death is knife that will free us for life
Because of what Jesus has done.

Adrian Plass, in An Alien at St Wilfred's, 1992.

I've been trying (again) to put something down in writing. And each time I try, I end up with a beautiful thumpetty thump with oodles of internal rhyme; it took me a while to realise I was just trying to recreate this. Why recreate what's already been said so well? So, thank you Adrian, for saying what I wanted to try to say before I ever needed to say it. And thank you too for permission to post it here.

In other news, I nipped into Budgen's this afternoon for some dishwasher liquid. And came out with leeks, cabbage, Brussels sprouts and cauliflour. Impulse buying I understand, but cabbage? Retail therapy, I'm all yours - but splurging on Brussels sprouts?

Excuse me, I have some cooking to do.

Tia