Losing my dad and my grandmother in the last four years has altered my perception of so many things. I feel like I have lost my footing and am still trying to orient this life without them. I remember, or try to remember that “the powerful play goes on,” and I must continue to contribute whatever verse I have. I don’t know fully what it will be. I continue because they would expect no less. They each fought through trials and set their minds to live and contribute as long their health let them, so must I.
O Me! O Life!
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.