After Rilke

Again and again, Rilke says. I know
the little churchyard he mentions, 
why it seems inviting to walk 
amid the names nestled in the grass
and lie down among them, considering
the immensity of what is to come. 
Again and again, and I don't feel
ready, but I take heart since the poet 
mentions flowers and wizened trees, even
the possibility of resting my helplessness;
of arms encircling me, even as stars fall.