A few days ago I received the sad news that my friend in the states had passed on. Like myself, he too suffered with this COPD, but his case has been much worse than mine.
I first met James whose internet handle was Enigma/Sojourner, in a COPD thread. We became friends quite quickly because like me, he also was a writer. Believe me Enigma could make the English language stand on its head in his orations; he was that prolific with his words. No matter his topic, people would just hang on every word, such was his eloquence. He was also a very accomplished artist with his portrait painting; his work just took your breath away. He was such a talented man in so many ways.
In addition to his writing and painting, he built boats, was quite a fitness guy with his running, being an ex marine and had a way with the ladies that would charm the hair off a coconut. His heart though was lost to his wife a long time ago. Never have I ever read so much feeling in a poem, as when he opened the door to his soul, writing to Mary. Of course like myself, he had an insatiable thirst and knowledge of poetry. His passing has really come too soon for such a talented man, what a waste to the world. His contributions through his words already are sorely missed. Sleep easy my friend.
In closing I have written a poem for my friend, for he would expect it of me and I could not have it any other way.
Don’t bury me
Don’t bury me where the sun can’t shine.
But on a hillside treed and green
Where I could see the oaks and smell the pine
Where the birds once sang and preened.
I’d like to think, that my spirit can roam,
Hills and valleys that reach to the sea,
Where the smell of the brine, and the crisp ozone
Ships in sail ride the waves, sleek and free.
I have written my words and have sang all my songs,
I’ve worked on the beaches, and I’ve gazed upon sights
My journey’s all done, the lifes highway so long.
I rest, my eyes closed - under cool starry nights.
Eric Valentine June 7th 2010 ©