Schmilly’s Celebration of Life was yesterday. This poem reminds me of her. She left more behind than love, but the love she did leave behind is the stuff of legend.
WHEN EVERYTHING THAT TICKED—HAS STOPPED
By: Martin Willitts, Jr.
—Emily Dickinson, # 510
It is not anything that stopped; but me.
It was not Death’s hearse of autumn leaves
slowing down to find my Last Testament.
If I made the smallest dent, I hope it was with Love.
Nothing in this reflective silence is long enough.
Nothing stops ticking in order to speak of me.
I came into the world with nothing except in Love;
and I leave behind nothing of value except Love.
Love—Love never stops. It keeps on going.
“When everything that ticked—has stopped” by Martin Willitts, Jr., from The Heart Knows Simply What It Means: Poems Based on Emily Dickinson, Her Life and Poetry. © Aldrich Press, 2012.