Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden
My brother’s love Megan, my brother, my sister and me, right before his most recent surgery.
@QueerieBradshaw I’m so sorry my friend. We love you ((((((Hugs))))))
A beautiful post by @QueerieBradshaw (well, mainly W.H. Auden, but it’s a beautiful tribute to her bro.) send her hugs. http://t.co/HCJMFQMe
I am so sorry Lauren! This has been one of my favorite poems for a long time…thank you for sharing such beauty, even in such a painful dark moment. I’m sure it reflects the beauty of your relationship with your brother.
@QueerieBradshaw I love you. Call whenever.
I don’t know what to say: but if you were here. I’d hold you the entire day.
xo
I am so very sorry.
I’m so sorry to hear about the passing of your brother. Peace be with you and your family in this time of grief.
I must just now be seeing this because I held my cousin’s hand as she lay dying on Wednesday night; diagnosed with cancer two weeks ago. Her funeral was yesterday. She was 41 years old. I am so sorry that you are suffering right now. I hope that in our lifetime people will be able to stop telling these sad stories. Much love to you and yours.
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