By Jacob Davis
Hey y’all! We’re a little over two months into this year’s program and I sit here writing this scratching my head; how did I get here, isn’t it still summer, why have I been so blessed?
I’d like to introduce you to one of my favorite poems. It is by Mona Santacroce, titled Sono’s Death Poem:
Don’t just stand there with your hair turning gray,
Soon enough the seas will sink your little island
So while there is still the illusion of time,
Set out for another shore.
No sense packing a bag.
You won’t be able to lift it into your boat.
Give away all your collections.
Take only new seeds and an old stick.
Send out some prayers on the wind before you sail.
Don’t be afraid.
Someone knows you’re coming.
An extra fish has been salted.
I moved back home to Louisville in the spring of 2023. I had just completed my undergraduate degrees, my sister was thriving in college, and I reconnected with old friends. But I wasn’t happy. I didn’t have a plan or the motivation to make one.
It was during this interval of my life that I spent a lot of time with my grandma, Ruth. Ruth, in her own words, is a hyper-active kid stuck in an 87-year-old body. She swims nearly every day, regularly attends PT sessions to keep her strength, works in the garden for several hours at a time, and has a fierce love for the arts in our city.
Without getting too specific, Ruth saved me. We spent so many evenings together watching Jeopardy and other shows on cable, so we could make fun of the commercials. We worked through our shared grief of losing a loved one together. She spoke to me with kindness about the future and all she hoped I could become, and she always reminded me to be grateful for life. We had weekly card nights with Dad and when she was home from school, my sister. This leads me to the title of my blog post.
Ruth introduced the idea of reading poetry during our card nights years ago, which quickly became a favorite family tradition. Every week, the “poet laureate” reads a poem for everyone. And you might be asking “Jacob, how does one become the poet laurate?” Well reader, it’s the big loser from the previous week! We play for keeps in this household!
Somewhere along the way Ruth read this poem to us, and it spoke to me. It painted a beautiful image in my mind of what a transition period ought to look like. I not only saw myself in these words, but I also felt hope for the people I have lost in life. I thought, “It’s okay to be sad; we’re on different boats with different destinations, but someone knows we’re coming.”
I am grateful for the Fellows Program at St. Francis and for the community that has so readily taken me in. I have been blessed with new friendships, new perspectives, and belonging. I am continuing to tap into my faith and starting to see a bright future ahead.
I set out for another shore a little over two months ago; God made sure there was a salted fish waiting for me. Thank you for reading.