Mary Oliver Poem

WHEN DEATH COMES
When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn;
When death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse to buy me,
And snaps the purse shut;
When death comes like the measles-pox;
When death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
What is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
And I look upon time as no more than an idea,
And I consider eternity as another possibility,
And I think of each life as a flower, as common as a field daisy, and as singular,
And each name a comfortable music in the mouth tending as all music does, toward silence,And each body a lion of courage, and something precious to the earth.
When its over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it is over, I don’t want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
~ Mary Oliver