To Be Eaten By A Vulture

My blogger friend, Keith, over at laughing scared, sent me a wonderfully morbid poem. I had made a comment on his post about being obsessed with not dying that reminded him of this poem. I had stated that when i die i want my body to be put in a tree so the crows and vultures could pick me clean. My bones can be worshipped afterwards by those who care. LOL. It is the truth, I would rather feed the Earth than to be put in a metal box to just lie there and rot. What fun is that. I want to soar in my next life.

Thank you Keith, for introducing me to another great poet. By the way, you have one of the best headers for a blog. My oldest can't even look at it.

Hope you all enjoy the poem as much as I do.


Vulture by: Robinson Jeffers

I had walked since dawn and lay down to rest on a bare hillside
Above the ocean. I saw through half-shut eyelids a vulture wheeling
high up in heaven,
And presently it passed again, but lower and nearer, its orbit
narrowing,
I understood then
That ii was under inspection. I lay death-still and heard the flight-
feathers
Whistle above me and make their circle and come nearer.
I could see the naked red head between the great wings
Bear downward staring. I said,"My dear bird, we are wasting time here.
These old bones will still work; they are not ready for you." But how
beautiful
he looked, gliding down
On those great sails; how beautiful he looked, veering away in the sea-light
over the precipice. I tell you solemnly
that I was sorry to have disappointed him. To be eaten by that beak
and
become part of him, to share those wings and those eyes--
What a sublime end to ones body, what an enskyment, what a life
after death.