Whenever I return to read my favorite writers’ contributions, I have the exact same level of disturbance that I do right now from being absent from AD for weeks, both reading and writing. When I return I marvel over how elevated my spirit becomes, post-by-post, even by the review comments I am privileged to make here. The words from you are immensely meaningful and I relish immersing my awareness in the graphics, the titles, the introductions and content of these works of writers here in the Den. I’m taken by the poetry itself so much so that I forget to go look at ‘stories,’ ‘articles,’ or ‘blogs.’ Poetry is spirit food like no other for me. Next is music. I digress from what I want to say to this ‘Remembering a Life.’ This one couldn’t present a more universal subject, I think; how did we matter?. You have sculpted the most beautiful epitaph for a human life. I resonate with the contents “Create the scent of wildfire in your footsteps,/Not the kind that destroys,” — that line emits heat energy of spirit so inviting. Reminding all that someone took a stand/And did not flinch.” “Live a life so that your shadow is not a silhouette,” — these are jewels. Thank you, I’m making my necklace of them, Odin. ~~ djl

Of all those who have lived and died, so few are remembered. And it is sad that most of those are some of the most diabolical people that ever lived.

It is only in the last few centuries the good people are beginning to be remembered more than the bad.

Ron

This poem doesn't just ask what makes a life worth living, it attempts to answer its own question thru a strong compassion and also creative defiance. Laughter referred to as a blade, sharp and purposeful, grief as a river that resists freezing. Footsteps leave behind the scent of wildfire, while kindness imagined as a bruise on cruelty's pale skin. We are left with a sense of hope: "They will come with scales made of bones and brass." Some brilliant imagery here: "Measuring not the years, but the never-dying embers left living with time." Bravo!