Meditation on a Bone

Jim Barr, our pastoral team leader at the Canberra Baptist Church, introduced me to this striking poem during the conversation Carole Anne and I had with him over lunch on Sunday at the Iron Bark Restaurant - after being officially received as church members at CBC earlier that morning. (Now we are dually affiliated with the Baptists in Australia and the Mennonites in North America!)

Meditation on a Bone - by A.D. Hope

A piece of bone, found at Trondhjem in 1901, with the following runic inscription (about A.D. 1050) cut on it: "I loved her as a maiden; I will not trouble Erlend's detestable wife; better she should be a widow."

Words scored upon a bone,
Scratched in despair or rage --
Nine hundred years have gone;
Now, in another age,
They burn with passion on
A scholar's tranquil page.

The scholar takes his pen
And turns the bone about,
And writes those words again.
Once more they seethe and shout
And through a human brain
Undying hate rings out.

"I loved her when a maid;
I loathe and love the wife
That warms another's bed:
Let him beware his life!"
The scholar's hand is stayed;
His pen becomes a knife

To grave in living bone
The fierce archaic cry.
He sits and reads his own
Dull sum of misery.
A thousand years have flown
Before that ink is dry.

And, in a foreign tongue,
A man, who is not he,
Reads and his heart is wrung
This ancient grief to see,
And thinks: When I am dung,
What bone shall speak for me?

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He sure had a bone to pick!

But the poem does pose a great question...

I wonder if my own thoughts and words - and occasional "deep grief" reflections, mostly saved in ethereal cyberspace at this point - will be around very long after I'm dead and gone?

Quite possibly, unless I do something about it, my "stuff" will all simply evaporate like ether - perhaps after only a few years much less a hundred or a thousand - overtaken by advancing technology and forgotten...or not?

What sort of legacy do I want to leave?

-Clair