A Final, Poignant Message from Jory Sherman.

landscape-poppy-flowers-5-orange-poppies-hillside-meadow-art-baslee-troutman-fine-art-prints

Jory Sherman penned the following words and asked that I publish them in the event that I lasted longer than he. Here are his final words, and his final message to us all: CP3

***

WHEN I BREATHE my last breath, there, all around you, my spirit will be.

I will be the gentle touch on your shoulder when you’re all alone.

I will be the breeze that kisses your face when you least expect it.  I will be the finger in the slight zephyr that tousles your hair.

I will be the rustling noise in the corner of an empty room.

I will be the perfume of flowers on the hillside, the scent of pines and spruce trees on some special morning.

Jory Sherman
Jory Sherman

I will be the quail piping in the field, the meadowlark trilling in the sunshine.

When You hear Sinatra sing, you will hear my voice.

When you listen to a Chopin nocturne, those will be my fingers on the piano keys.

I will be in the orchestra playing Beethoven, Mozart, and Brahms.  My own violin will soar above all the rest.

And when you look in a store window, my reflection will remind you of who I was.

My words will be between the lines of a poem by e.e.cummings, Dylan Thomas or Lorca in New York.

I will be the shadow in the moonlight of Debussy’s Clair de Lune.

I will be the hum on your lips when you are happy.

I will be in the wine you drink on New Year’s Eve.  I will be the dance music in a high school gym.

I will be the tinkling wind chimes on your front porch.

And, I will be the snowflake that tinks on your hand when winter comes.

I will be the raindrop that falls on your face in early spring.

I will be the green sea whose combers unfurl like foamy flags on the shore.

I will be in your dreams at night when you least expect me, and I will be in puzzling disguise.

I will be everywhere at once and nowhere at all.

I will be spirit and remember my life on earth with sadness and pride.

I will listen to your prayers and feel the tug at my heart when you look at my picture.

I will be with my Father and wander the Universe at will.

I will see all Time and the splendor of the galaxies.

And, if my ashes be placed in a grave, I hope the marker reads these words from a poem by John Masefield: “Home is the sailor, home from the sea.  And, the hunter, home from the hill.”

And, I will be with you.  Always.

 

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

  • Thanks for this. I love writing and the written word – and to share such a beautiful outlook.

    • Caleb Pirtle

      Jory was a rare figure in the literary world. I wish I had known him during his beat poet days in the San Francisco coffee houses.

  • Don Newbury

    One of life’s gifts is to meet interesting, talented, passionate people. I feel much the loser for never having met Jory.

    • Caleb Pirtle

      That’s a street that runs both ways, Don. Jory would have loved meeting you as well.

Related Posts