Is Death as Beautiful as Love?

“Death is as beautiful as love.” I vehemently disagree with this closing line from a poem I wrote in high school. I tried hard to remember the rest of the poem and understand what was meant, but unfortunately, that is the only line I can remember. I will tell you right up front that I think there is nothing that is as beautiful as love.

Seeking insight, I tried to imagine what a beautiful death would look like, perhaps stepping in front of a bullet intended for someone else or dying in defense of your country. Those are selfless and honorable ways to die.

Making a living will ensures a peaceful death when there is no hope of recovery and provides an end to the sufferings of family members. That is a responsible and loving way to die.

Maybe it would be beautiful to die holding the hand of the one you love and plunging to your death from one of the many famous “Lovers’ Leaps.” Well, maybe that kind of death isn’t beautiful, though it might be preferable to being forced into a loveless marriage. Having heard tales as a child about a “Lovers’ Leap” in West Virginia, this is the sentimental favorite among the candidates for a “beautiful death.”

Death is natural and something we all will experience, but we shouldn’t expect it to be beautiful. I believe that what is beautiful is the love that motivated the people involved in the scenarios mentioned, and not the death itself. As I stated at the beginning, I don’t believe that anything is as beautiful as love.

Going forward, since I couldn’t reconstruct the original poem, I decided to write a poem that included the line from the original poem, “Death is as beautiful as love.” After many failed attempts, I settled for writing a poem about an imaginary young couple at Lovers’ Leap, a sort of “Romeo and Juliet of the mountains.”

A Tale of Lovers’ Leap

Hand-in hand, Darling,

we climb to dizzying heights

above the valley,

where our feuding families

have forbidden us to wed.

Sweethearts forever,

standing on the precipice

above our valley,

hand-in-hand, we’ll leap into

eternity together.

Will they weep for us

down in the valley of hate?

Will the feuding end?

Will they bury us side-by-side

down in a valley of love?

Copyright© 2022 by Cheryl Batavia

Personal Note: I began writing this post in the hospital waiting room while Robert was undergoing emergency pacemaker surgery on Wednesday. He came home on Thursday and is recovering well. I may have been thinking some dark thoughts as I wrote, but the sun is shining now! A full recovery is expected in four to six weeks.

A Fantasy

Message in a Bottle

A Fantasy

A barefoot wanderer on the sands of time,

moment to moment, no reason or rhyme,

searching for a message in a bottle along the shoreline,

but pebbles on the beach were all I could find.

Looking for the light of my life, year after year,

I sang along with the music of the spheres,

seeking someone to sing with me as we embark,

two-by-two onto an archetypical ark.

I rowed my small boat…on dry land I planted my feet.

Miracle of miracles, soon we were dancing cheek-to-cheek!

All was bright where once were darkness and strife.

I smiled at you, the light of my life!

From each rising sun to the next rising sun,

on top of the world, under the gun,

or tossed by capricious seas, we’ve had a good run.

We’ve sailed life together, and it’s been fun!

Hand-in-hand on the beach we walk as before;

a message in a bottle washes up on the shore.

With hearts aflutter and chaos of mind,

we uncork the bottle, unsettled by what we find.

With the music of the spheres our hearts are attuned,

but the message in the bottle portends impending doom.

It says, “Tis a short voyage from cradle to tomb.”

We face an epic tidal wave…The end has come so soon!

Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia

Oblivion Can Wait

Wakeful

in the dim light

and stillness of morning,

I lie beside you, listening

to your breathing, holding your hand.

You turn over and sleep.

Warm and drowsy,

I doze.

I dream

you take my hand,

and together we rise

toward peaceful oblivion…

I waken suddenly…Not today!

Today, cardinals sing

their cheery songs

outside.

Today,

the grass is green.

In anticipation

of sunrise, ruellas open,

glowing purple in golden light.

Today belongs to us.

Oblivion

can wait.

Today,

the sun comes up.

I drink my tea and write.

You are sleeping, but when you wake,

we will spend the day together.

Today belongs to us.

Oblivion

can wait.

Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia

We are in a holding pattern at our house. Robert’s cataract surgery has been postponed because of an infection in a root canal. The infection, which didn’t show up in dental x-rays, was finally discovered with a 3-D scan. After the root canal is redone, antibiotics, and no infection for several weeks, cataract surgery can be rescheduled. Thank you for understanding if I am a little erratic on WordPress for a while.