Sarah Burke, 1982-2012

On January 19, 2012, the snow industry lost an icon. Sarah Burke, freeskiing pioneer, six-time X Games gold medalist, beloved wife, daughter, sister, aunt and friend passed away.

Rosie

W. S. Graham - Listen. Put on Morning

Listen. Put on morning.

Waken into falling light.

A man’s imagining

Suddenly may inherit

The handclapping centuries

Of his one minute on earth.

And hear the virgin juries

Talk with his own breath

To the corner boys of his street.

And hear the Black Maria

Searching the town at night.

And hear the playropes caa

The sister Mary in.

And hear Willie and Davie

Among bracken of Narnain

Sing in a mist heavy

With myrtle and listeners.

And hear the higher town

Weep a petition of fears

At the poorhouse close upon

The public heartbeat.

And hear the children tig

And run with my own feet

Into the netting drag

Of a suiciding principle.

Listen. Put on lightbreak.

Waken into miracle.

The audience lies awake

Under the tenements

Under the sugar docks

Under the printed moments.

The centuries turn their locks

And open under the hill

Their inherited books and doors

All gathered to distil

Like happy berry pickers

One voice to talk to us.

Yes listen. It carries away

The second and the years

Till the heart’s in a jacket of snow

And the head’s in a helmet white

And the song sleeps to be wakened

By the morning ear bright.

Listen. Put on morning.

Waken into falling light.

Rabindranath Tagore - (“Sing the song of the moment...”)

VII

Sing the song of the moment in careless carols, in the transient light of the day;

Sing of the fleeting smiles that vanish and never look back;

Sing of the flowers that bloom and fade without regret.

Weave not in memory’s thread the days that would glide into nights.

To the guests that must go bid God-speed, and wipe away all traces of their steps.

Let the moments end in moments with their cargo of fugitive songs.

With both hands snap the fetters you made with your own heart chords;

Take to your breast with a smile what is easy and simple and near.

Today is the festival of phantoms that know not when they die.

Let your laughter flush in meaningless mirth like twinkles of light on the ripples;

Let your life lightly dance on the verge of Time like a dew on the tip of a leaf.

Strike in the chords of your harp the fitful murmurs of moments.

Anne Francis

"One tall, cool drink of water..."

Diane di Prima - Buddhist New Year Song

I saw you in green velvet, wide full sleeves
seated in front of a fireplace, our house
made somehow more gracious, and you said
“There are stars in your hair”— it was truth I
brought down with me
...

The author's web site

Renee Vivien - Your Strange Hair

I burn the whiteness of your fingers with kisses.
The night air spreads the dust from many worlds.
Still I don't know anymore, in the heart of those deep nights,
How to see you with the passion of yesterday.