Mountain Man

The thing about death, is that no-one knows what to say. It means that sometimes we say nothing, when something would have helped and sometimes we say something, when nothing would have helped. I know that I worry that I will say the wrong thing. I worry that I will say the one thing that hurts the griever even more. Perhaps this isn’t possible. I think that giving a person your time and listening may be the answer and if silence is what’s needed, then be there to listen to silence.

Since Harry died, hundreds of people have payed tribute to him on social media. His poems have been shared, photos and memories recounted – a real testament to who he was. Harry touched and will go on touching a lot of people’s lives.

One Facebook post that particularly caught my eye, was a poem, written by one of Harry’s friends. She posted it with the words: a channeled poem and wanted to share it with Harry’s family to help them in their grief. It immediately struck me how brave this was. How brave to channel these words directly to Sarah, Simon, Ellen and everyone else who is feeling the pain of Harry’s death right now. How brave of her to lay her thoughts on the line, that came from Harry. It is a powerful poem, that encapsulates Harry’s spirit. I am pretty sure that his friend who wrote these beautiful words, knew exactly what to say.

Mountain Man
I seek you,
The depth of you,
To honour.
So I lay on my back,
I reel through,
Floods of memories,
Your laugh,
Deep child like,
From the back of the throat.
I remember the tone of your voice,
Priest like and well timed.
Calming.
I remember we use to walk through box hill,
Hampstead in awe of trees,
buds and leaf patterns,
And pretend we knew their names.
We shared a love for nature,
For wood, for crafts.
I remember feeling,
You are an old soul,
A traditional spirit,
Seeking out values,
Against the modern world.
A man tapping wood,
In precision,
Planting vegetables,
To harvest.
You always seem to find
and make pockets,
Of riotousness and goodwill.
Solid you were,
Seeking what it is to be good,
A man,
And noble.
I use to wind you up,
And say don’t worry about being a man,
Be free. You began to loosen ideas.
When I close my eyes,
I feel you make the world safe,
You make me pause,
And look for longer,
At the grains of wood,
The heights of trees,
And the seconds of my breathe.
When I close my eyes,
I feel your spirit next to mine,
And I tell you it’s time to go,
I sing at you,
And shake, we all shook for you,
With Ratu.
But your by the side,
Of all those that grieve.
Grieve at the way it ended.
I ask you how can I help,
You reply, help my family.
How?
Do what you would need,
If you were them.
If you lost a son,
To the mountain.
If I were your mother, farther,
siblings, cousins,
I’d want to be left to weep,
I would eventually,
Start Un-sticking by the soft,
Words of an old friend,
Affirming harry lived fully,
Dissolving sadness of loss.
Tell her how I love native Americans,
And when it’s time to pass,
They walk alone into the forests,
and mountains.
Remind them to hear my poems,
Calling men.
Thrilling how close these words are now.
Remind them it was my deepest desire,
to become a good man,
To know my power and true heart.
And the mountain called me,
holds me.
Peru holds me.
It holds them.
Tell them of the days I got caught,
focused too much on work,
Before I moved back near them.
Tell them how I was happier
At home.
How my deepest longing was to travel,
To feel alive.
Tell them I was living my truth.
So there is no loss, worth a scratch.
Remind them of my latest face and beard,
And peace in my eyes. I did it.
Thank her, them for holding me so tight,
In her heart.
Tell them I fell inlove with the earth,
I got to know her,
Live by her.
That she birthed a being into this world,
And filled me with love.
Tell them I have left ripples,
of their love around them,
And that my heart is carved,
Into mystery, into timelessness,
In boundless love.
Tell them to keep living,
Fully living with all the ache.
To look out for one another.
Tell them this life is infinite,
And souls never die.
Tell them I protect them,
And will meet them again.
But for now,
I rest in the spirit,
As a mountain,
Man.

By Joie de Winter