A Prayer on Passing Through - William French

William French was my husband, teacher and mentor for 20 years until his passing in 1998. A long-time writer, poet and mystic, he penned this poem after a dream 2 years before his passing. In this dream, a beautiful lady appeared and told him his mission on earth was done. After this he would frequently prepare me for his departure. His writings were bequeathed to me to “do as you want with them.”

From time to time I will post here some of his writings.

A (sort of) Prayer on Passing Through

I have burned all your hours, days and nights

wantonly, Lord, these many incense years,

awed at the great conflagration of transitions and becomings

as if someone else was auditing the essence of it all

as from a distance in the end.

The mistresses, motorcars, melodies

the loving and the doing and the consequence.

and musing on the fusing of the actors in the act,

the ecstasy and tragic culminations

mostly disremembered now

were frequented by whom?

Who was it laughed or sobbed then?

Thou or she or we or I,

or someone else we merely seemed awhile then once,

and if so why?

(I must confess I’ve wondered why)

Yet what a stunning show it was

of flutes and kids and harpsichords,

the mornings and Mozart and evenings and rain

and the mothers our lovers became too soon

so blithe and sad and luminous

I could never comprehend

(and anyway too subtle to sully here in mere words)

but surely forever.

So let me only say softly now

(sotto voce if you will)

how all those bright earthy dreams

you graciously loaned I gratefully consumed

in one fine fragrance of something

scented quagmire and honeysuckle,

redolent of spring and

wholly lucent with angels here

where we so casually cohabited with light

almost consciously at times

here where the afterglow endures.

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