Christina Rossetti's poem When I am dead, my dearest

I have always felt that to live a free, enjoyable, and purposeful life, one ought to start by accepting death as something not to be denied or feared or to have to create myths about. Death is inevitable, and accepting that reality and finality without any fear and yet living life fully with hope, joy, curiosity, compassion, open-mindedness, and romance is the key. This needs no crutch of myth but an acceptance of reality and uncertainty. I love this poem for expressing that beautiful detached peaceful acceptance of the finality of death without longing for anything after that. There are a number of verses in Tagore's Gitanjali where he expresses a similar sentiment, and views death as something to welcome when it comes to us, especially after a fulfilling life. This is why I find all the euphemisms about death, the prevailing stigma to talk about it, the death rituals/ceremonies in most religions all as impediments to true liberation of the self (both in life when lived, and in death when dead) and of the eventual finite reality of life, and it’s here and now. – Venkat

 

When I am dead, my dearest

By Christina Rossetti

When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me;

Plant thou no roses at my head,

Nor shady cypress tree:

Be the green grass above me

With showers and dewdrops wet;

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.

 

I shall not see the shadows,

I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale

Sing on, as if in pain:

And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.