I Haven't the Words, So I'll Borrow Someone Elses

Ever since I read the post at Cathy's World that her condition was grave, I have wanted to write something, yet finding the right words was impossible. As each update, and each tribute poured in from around the Internet, I felt inadequate to the task of adding my own small voice to this litany.

I didn't know her, but she was as profound a presence as possible for someone who I haven't met.

I don't know her daughter, yet my concern for her well being and future happiness is deep and sincere.

I don't know any of her friends personally, but I share their grief.

So, rather than stumbling through more bad prose, I'll let a few of the greats speak for me . . .

John Donne

Holy Sonnets, X

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so ;
For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture[s] be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke ; why swell'st thou then ?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more ; Death, thou shalt die.


W.B. Yeats

SWIFT'S EPITAPH

SWIFT has sailed into his rest;
Savage indignation there
Cannot lacerate his breast.
Imitate him if you dare,
World-besotted traveller; he
Served human liberty.

What Yeats said about Swift, can easily be applied to Cathy Seipp, she served human liberty, with soul and wit, no higher praise can be bestowed on a person.