All deaths are deaths that I’ve already died
All deaths are deaths I wish to die again—
To die the wooden death in the tree
To die the stone death in the mountain
The earthy death in the sand
The crackling death of the leaf in the summer grass
And the bleak and bloody death of the human being.
As a flower I want to be born again
As tree and grass I want to be born again
As fish and deer, as bird and butterfly
And out of every form
My longing will tear each single stage
To the final pains
To the final pains of man.
O bow now drawn and quivering
If the white-knuckled fist of longing
Should seek to bend both poles of life to one!
Then often and over and over again
You will hunt me from death to birth
Along the painful path of creation
Along the glorious path of creation.
The throes of death are also one of life’s processes, no less than birth, and often one can confuse the two.
From an undated letter
Pain and lamentation are our first and natural response to the loss of a loved one. They help us through the initial grief and distress, but they are not enough to link us to the dead person.
This is done on a primitive level through the cult of the dead—sacrifices, decorating the grave, monuments, flowers. But at our level, offerings to the dead must take place within our own souls, through thoughts, through the most precise memories, through the reconstruction of the dearly beloved deep within ourselves. If we can accomplish this, the dead person will walk on beside us, his image will be saved and will help us to make our pain fruitful.
From an undated letter