Over This, Your White Grave

Over your white grave
the flowers of life in white
- so many years without you -
how many have passed out of sight?
Over your white grave,
covered for years, there is a stir
in the air, something uplifting
and, like death, beyond comprehension.
Over your white grave
oh, mother, can such loving cease?
for all his filial adoration
a prayer:
Give her eternal peace--
[Krakow, spring 1939]

 
  The death of a powerful man fills us with dismay. While reading the poem Karol Wojtyla wrote to honour his mother who had died prematurely we can feel closer to him since his pain is just like every other man's pain. Before the mystery of death he looks as helpless as any other human being would do. Let's read this simple touching poem without trying to comment or dig out meanings. Just for once.  

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