The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.
I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably. Burial was no help:
Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful
Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.
-- Philip Larkin
2 comments:
beautiful. poignant. true. thanks for posting. x j
One of my favorite poems. It is an acknowledgement of the often messy, sudden, finality of death. The finality of death, its before and its after, astonish me: a life, and then an instant later, no life. Even with an expected death, the absence is a surprise. I love Larkin's spare, direct style, and his conclusion.
…
we should be careful
Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time
Post a Comment