"Funeral of Atala" by Anne-Louis De Roussy‘Console Her With the Atheist’s Philosophy’ by Samuel Johnson The Society February 24, 2017 Culture, Deconstructing Communism, Poetry 2 Comments Console her with the Atheist’s philosophy: ____Never mind! Your grandma’s dead. It’s Nature’s way of denoting an atrophy ____In the muscles, lungs and head. I mean to say her central nervous system ____Was gradually shutting down. You really can’t appreciate its Wisdom? ____Oh, darling, must you frown? For when we too are old and in our grey hairs, ____We shall start to senesce. And that’s when all our trials and all our past cares ____Shall slowly evanesce: For darling, they were nothing but illusions ____Of an over-active brain! And that’s from whence does stem this sad confusion ____About Hope, and Fear, and Pain! They’re really nothing more than mere self-interest ____Of that selfish, selve-ish seed: And that’s why, dear, I must admit that it’s best ____(I mean for the human breed) That your granny’s not around to clog the action ____Of the great genetic pool. She got seventy years, and now it’s traction ____Has snapped back: that’s the rule. For really, what’s the point of all the dying, ____And the old, sick, halt and lame? Oh, darling, you must cease from all this crying! ____Worship Darwin and his name! Samuel Johnson lives in Richmond Hill, Ontario, and works for the L’Arche Daybreak community. Related Post ‘Song of Us’ and Other Poetry by by Amy Foreman Song of Us Face to face, polite and careful, Tentative we were, and prayerful, Neither one of us would dare pull More from this than met the eye. ... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail 2 Responses Amy Foreman February 24, 2017 Exactly. “Console” her with the atheist’s philosophy. Works equally well in fox-holes too, I’ve heard. Reply Damian Robin February 26, 2017 Take a photo of the late Charles Darwin Who buried God at his daughter’s death. Look at a photograph of dead Walt Whitman Whose lines became so long and grandiose and bilious and, literally, self-centred without recompense, He lost his breath. Each likeness is a living body quote. When alive, they’d often gain applause. Their white beards now are like the books they wrote — Accepted with a childlike innocence — like Santa Claus. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.