The dead are always looking down on us, they say,
while we are putting on our shoes or making a sandwich,
they are looking down through the glass-bottom boats of heaven
as they row themselves slowly through eternity.

They watch the tops of our heads moving below on earth,
and when we lie down in a field or on a couch,
drugged perhaps by the hum of a warm afternoon,
they think we are looking back at them,

which makes them lift their oars and fall silent
and wait, like parents, for us to close our eyes.

— Billy Collins, from Sailing Alone Around the Room, Random House, 2001.

***

and a special announcement:

Words for the Weekend is back this weekend with another installment in our Apocalypse series. I’m excited because I wrote a piece (as Christy Anna Beguins) just for the series titled, “Just Another Day: Signs, Memories, and Bob Marleys.”

From my intro:

This is a story of survival: how memory and music can sustain us, nourish us, and keep us alive; how undying love can light up the darkness. All you have to do is believe. Do you believe like I believe in magic?

For friends and readers here who may not follow that site (it has been quiet for a while), please drop by to visit. I’d love your thoughts and feedback on my story. Look around and hit the follow button while you’re over there; we’ll have another installment very (very very) soon.  Thanks! ~ Christy