William Blake would not approve of yesterday's old churchyard myth. I came across his poem The Garden of Love today and was struck by how fitting a rebuttal it presented to my words.



I did, however, qualify my church by saying it should not restrict, but buoy the human spirit. Also, I don't necessarily see tragedy in tombstones, which instead mark the comings and goings of people like me, who've done what I'm doing, and gone where I'm going. (Though I admit the image and description are brutally wonderful for describing religion as it almost always is.) I'd like to write a poem called Love Amongst Tombstones where death and life intermingle into a single awesome expression of our condition.