so my grandpa is currently in hospice care for cancer and i went to visit him in the hospital. i was a big blubbering mess and he signed a small pocket travel book about paris that he gave me when I was like 6 ish. despite all the crying and mourning yada yada, he recited this poem. "abou ben adhem" here it goes
"Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest."
my grandpa was brought up christian in the 50's-60's. when he married my grandma, his family was opposed because she was jewish, he read abou ben adhem to his family. they weren't completely moved by it, but he said that it taught them to at least tolerate other religions and political viewpoints. after that he went on a rant about trump and ice and how we need to normalize guillotines ❤️
