Beneath the Shroud

copyright 2013

I am a practicing death midwife.  Recently, while exploring myths and legends surrounding death, I came across this poem. I wanted to share it with you.

The reference to witchcraft creates a palpable atmosphere when times were dangerous and filled with mystery. Although the finality of death awaits us all, this particular poem's evocative imagery of release and liberation describes how nothing will matter once the last breath is expelled.

Straightforward, Shakespeare's pen to paper reveals his 'fear not' final salute to all who draw breath.

 We are all the same in the final hour.  All equal beneath the shroud.

Yet I believe in the spirit eternal.  For no matter what is done with our remains, be assured dear friend, our spirit endures.

It soars untethered to our fleeting grandeur, past  social standing or enduring strife.

Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' the great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

Cymbeline Act 1V, Scene 2
William Shakespeare