When Death Comes, Type One, Mary Oliver Leave a Comment / Type One / By Michael Naylor Mary Oliver–When Death ComesWhen death comeslike the hungry bear in autumn;when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;when death comeslike the measle-pox when death comeslike an iceberg between the shoulder blades, I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness? And therefore I look upon everythingas a brotherhood and a sisterhood,and I look upon time as no more than an idea,and I consider eternity as another possibility, and I think of each life as a flower, as commonas a field daisy, and as singular, and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,tending, as all music does, toward silence, and each body a lion of courage, and somethingprecious to the earth. When it’s over, I want to say all my lifeI was a bride married to amazement.I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms. When it’s over, I don’t want to wonderif I have made of my life something particular, and real. I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,or full of argument. I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world!