Requiescat by Oscar Wilde

Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone,
She is at rest.

Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life’s buried here,
Heap earth upon it.


Today, I remember two exemplary women–two mothers; and so I wanted to pay them a tribute through this poem. One is my own, Mercedes, and the other is my friend Claudette’s mom, Josephine. They may no longer be with us physically in this universe, but the ever-so-loving-memory of them will live on with us for ever, and, in any universe too. Fly high, Mercedes and Josephine!

Poem by Oscar Wilde
Image by Unsplash

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