As you stand at the end of the world,

and see the lights and swirls of
uncharted infinities and undreamed
dreams beyond,

you know that someday

when you can fly

you'll go to all the places where you're
not allowed

and all those places, exiled by fate

will be your home.

Postscript

Peter Eckersley passed away last week. I was lucky enough to have worked closely with him last summer and I counted him among my friends. I’ve said my piece about him elsewhere, so this post isn’t meant to memorialize him. But it does exist because of him.

I left his memorial service a few hours before putting this post together. The eulogies for him were heart-wrenching and beautiful. He was deeply beloved by many because of his infectious joy for life and his efforts to share that joy with others. He built bridges between people, and he did so not by accident but with intentionality—because wherever he saw a way to make things better he went out and did it. He loved poetry.

A theme that came up in the eulogies was a call to action: to follow Peter’s example. To try to be a little bit more like him. To delight in what’s beautiful, to share that delight with others, to be more intentional in connecting with others. The call is ringing like a bell in my head. I want to heed it.

Many years ago I wrote a poem that I kept to myself. It was my favorite thing I had written, so I guarded it like a secret treasure. I shared it with a tiny number of people and never had plans to share it with anyone else. I was too self-conscious to share it, even as I printed it out and taped it to the wall above my desk to be my north star. It has always given me comfort.

But what’s the point of being self-conscious about things that are beautiful? What’s the point of building walls to keep others out? Peter lived an exemplary life. He showed how much love you can create by dissolving those inhibitions. By embracing your inner weirdo, by inviting friends to dinner and talking for hours, by writing and sharing poetry.

So here it is, the poem I wrote many years ago. I am sharing it with you because I think sharing a poem is the sort of thing that would have made Peter happy, and it feels like a small way I can honor his memory.