death
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The Common Hearse
It's time to write a simple versein honor of the common hearse,sleekly polished, darkened glass,slowly taking one last pass down the tree-lined avenues,past long-assumed, familiar views–street lamps, fences, kids at play,neighbor's gardens, Miss Delay, whose laundry flaps despite the rainfrom… Continue reading
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Ataraxis
In the land of Ataraxis,in a village made of stonestands a cottage built by practiceof compassion slowly honed. On a hill of Ataraxisin a cottage built of brickson a table set for mourninglies a man whose eyes are fixed not… Continue reading
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Voice of the Prophets
Each day around the worldin brutalitysprout the seeds of death,a ghastly gardenwatered by our averted gaze,our lost sensitivity,our lives of distraction. The time to reap approachesand our culture of consumptionshall fall beneaththe harvester's blade. Text and image © 2011 by… Continue reading
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Denver Art Museum, Holy Saturday, 2011
I The art of New Spain, 1598-1821.I sit on a creaking camp stoolsurrounded by assorted grim Jesuseswho bleed,who hang their heads with eternal weariness.Sad, solitary suffering,standing forever with hands bound,hanging forever with xylophone ribs. This is Good Friday stuff,not yet… Continue reading
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Good Friday
The most horrifying words in scripture–in all of human history–are these: "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" At that moment, Jesus felt utter betrayal; he'd trusted in God, and he'd been duped. His faith ended at that… Continue reading
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Three Dresser Drawers
She may take only what fits in three dresser drawers. Continue reading
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Vigil II
We hear the train rumble into the stationas we stand around the bedthat cradles the 90-year-old-womanwhom we call wife, mother, sister, friend. The wailing of the whistlesignals the train has stopped.We glance at one another:Is this an arrival or a… Continue reading
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Vigil I
There isn't a discrete momentwhen you say, with certainty,"There, that was death." Instead, there's the dawning realizationthat the next breath hasn't come,that at some point,somewhere in the last minute or two or three,something that had been there for decades,snuck past… Continue reading
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Stopped Dead
Stopped dead between headstones,dry leaves drifting over my shoes,I scan, rescan the engraved letters.This century-old epitaph could be mine. I feel like Scrooge sighting along the bony fingerof his future ghost. Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All… Continue reading
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Job-Loss, Death, Etc.
From time to timethe vehicle of your life–the one you're driving even as you read this–disappears from the busy streets you navigate dailyand reappears on some empty, unknown, rural road. What landscape is this?Signs point to places you do not… Continue reading