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Archive Number 1037 | ||
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Date: Thu, 7 Feb 2002 13:56:14 EST
In a message dated 2/7/02 2:29:17 PM, cwright@ROCKISLAND.COM writes: << Laura Simms did a workshop for 50 staff storytellers at the Staten Island school district. I forgot the exact number, but a few hundred children lost a parent in the WTC tragedy. It was early December, and the coordinator told us that the island still had many funerals per day. After introductions, Laura introduced the booklet she had produced called "Stories to Nourish the Hearts of Our Children in a Time of Crisis" (see http://www.laurasimms.com...or see the Healing stories website for many of the stories.) She said, "You all know that stories are not just entertainment. Each story contains a seed of a feeling, and..." >> Yes. And other stories in Laura's collection might do well. As for what Gail said, "I'm intrigued by how we turn to poetry sometimes instead of story. " -- poetry seems a more condensed, succinct, precise use of language than story, appropriate for the compressed emotions and complexities surrounding grief. Here are two poems I have found that might be useful for you, Jena. The first... If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one. --Kahlil Gibran (found in Life Prayers, ed. Roberts and Amidon) And here's a poem I found last fall. It was used at a friend's memorial service. (copying this from an word processing doc. Hope it will transfer to e-mail all right) Epitaph (anonymous) When I die Give what's left of me away To children And old men that wait to die. Cry for your brother Walking the street beside you. And when you need me, Put your arms Around anyone And give them What you need to give me. I want to leave you something, Something better Than words or sound. Look for me In the people I've known Or loved, And if you cannot give me away, At least let me live in your eyes And not on your mind. You can love me most By letting Hands touch hands, By letting bodies touch bodies, And by letting go Of children That need to be free. Love doesn't die, People do. So, when all that's left of me Is love, Give me away. I'll see you at home In the beyond. Cristy West Washington. DC | ||