|  
        
        by William Brown 
       
      Editor's Note: William Brown sent in his 
        poem River of Grief with a note to say that it was written immediately 
        after his first reading of Percy Shelley's poem To William Shelley, so 
        it seems only appropriate to first let you read Shelley's poem and then 
        read Brown's poem: 
      To William Shelley 
        (written for his son William who died at the age of three) 
        by Percy Shelley  
      My lost William, thou in whom 
        Some bright spirit lived, and did 
        That decaying robe consume 
        Which its lustre faintly hid, 
        Here its ashes find a tomb, 
        But beneath this pyramid 
        Thou art not-if a thing divine 
        Like thee can die, thy funeral shrine 
        Is thy mothers grief and mine 
      Where art thou, my gentle child? 
        Let me think thy spirit feeds, 
        With its life intense and mild, 
        The love of living leaves and weeds, 
        Among these tombs and ruins wild;- 
        Let me think that through low seeds 
        Of sweet flowers and sunny grass, 
        Into their hues and scents may pass 
        A portion..... 
         
       
       
        by William Brown 
      I tremble with awe at being so beautifully, so agonizingly  
        connected with the endless river of grief; its waters ... 
      rising long before 3-year-old William Shelley's  
        father and mother wept over his ashes, 
      splashing into the valley of the shadow of my own 18-year-old Elizabeth's 
         
        death ... 
        washing over me and all Grieving Parents of this time ... 
      (knowing that billions of the very same water molecules  
        which then spilled from William's parents eyes 
        also now spill from Elizabeth's parents eyes) 
      cascading on and on ... 
        flowing into a  
        too-vast ocean of grief from  
        too many past, present and future  
        too-young deaths, 
      recycling perpetually, until at last, 
        our sun inevitably grows into a red giant, 
      and the Earth, with all her inhabitants, 
        burns in the final, flaming funeral pyre ... 
        incinerating into one unifying, communal ball of ash,  
      and the river, with all her tears of grief,  
        boils in the final, hissing cauldron ... 
        evaporating into one unifying, communal cloud of steam. 
        
      Bill Brown's daughter, Elizabeth (4/17/78 
        - 8/17/96), was killed in an auto accident, in Claremont, CA, due to speeding 
        and driver distraction. He and Elizabeth's mother forgave the young driver, 
        and welcomed him at Elizabeth's memorial service in Albuquerque, NM. Forgiveness 
        has made all the difference.  
      Bill's careers: mathematics educator, 
        automation engineer/manager, and now studying to become a grief counselor. 
        He participate actively as a leader in The Compassionate Friends and in 
        an email support group, Grieving Parents. Bill find's writing poetry to 
        be very therapeutic. 
 |