I posted this in May and do so again today. It seems so apropos in the context of Tuesday’s hospice log, especially the part about our volunteer’s mom having entered and exited life on the same hospital floor, 47 years apart to the day.
Some time in February of 1360, shortly before his death at age 77, Japanese Zen master Kozan Ichikyo called his pupils together, ordered them to bury him without ceremony, and forbade them to hold services in his memory. He wrote this poem on the morning of his death, laid down his brush and died sitting upright.
Empty-handed I entered the world
Barefoot I leave it.
My coming, my going–
Two simple happenings
That got entangled.
source: Hoffmann, Y. (1998). Japanese death poems: written by Zen monks and haiku poets on the verge of death. Boston/Tokyo: Tuttle, p.108.