Midwife for the Dying. Amazing post. I am a midwife by profession, and have often made this correlation. We need help coming in, and help going out.
Not more than you should;
Not less than is needed.
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Sometimes there’s nothing to be said at all.
Tears will do nicely.
A quiet sitting by can be the best medicine of all.
Especially for those who doubt their own grasp of wisdom
in knowing the difference.
Sometimes black humor will do wonders.
Laughter – to tears, through tears – can provide precisely
the hand-hold needed
to climb the sheer face of terror
and assault dark uncertainties.
Sometimes it’s the foothold
of a poem,
Sometimes it’s a prayer.
Midwives for the dying, we are,
for what is death but
To avert our eyes
to nervously shift one foot to the other
to pretend that we’re not staring at death
is like pretending a woman is not really in labor as…
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