Notes from An Alien

~ Explorations In Reading, Writing & Publishing ~

A Virtual Memorial That Brings Real Tears…


Jamie was known as Jammers in the virtual world, Second Life.

She passed away on March 28th. If you’ve newly arrived at this blog, scroll down through the last few posts for some background

Watching people arrive at her Shrine, pause in silence, then place their flowers or candles

Hearing them talk about her

She chose a little kitty as her avatar—Basement Kitteh

People pass by who didn’t know her; quiet explanation is made of the two pictures, her real life beauty and her virtual kitty–rambunctious kitteh :-)

Often, I visit; each time someone new is there

I took a picture of the Shrine today. The man standing there is Bonchance Longfall. He wrote the Memorial Poem below this picture. In real life, Jamie was mute. I had been her voice for many readings of her poetry:

Jammers Shrine in Second Life

In the clamor of others to be heard
she expressed herself with just a pen,
her only way was the written word.
We will not hear her words again.
Twenty-seven! Her heart is still,
nevermore will she bear her pain.
One more angel, called for her skill
to a gathering of angels, her new domain.
Her hands now lie on her placid breast
and we think of all she gave us, when
all fear and hurt are put to rest,
and her writing sings out over our din.

Her storm has calmed, so we must abide
as peace now comes, at God’s side.

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9 responses to “A Virtual Memorial That Brings Real Tears…

  1. Jaleta Clegg April 4, 2011 at 7:09 pm

    That’s beautiful. Thanks for sharing it.

    Like

  2. Cassy Lark April 5, 2011 at 4:24 pm

    I stumbled upon this poem and it reminded me of Jammers and wanted to share. I will think of her whenever I spot a shadow dancing in the wind….

    The Shadow

    BY CARLO BETOCCHI

    One spring day I saw
    the shadow of a strawberry tree
    lying on the moor
    like a shy lamb asleep.

    Its heart was far away,
    suspended in the sky,
    brown in a brown veil,
    in the sun’s eye.

    The shadow played in the wind,
    moving there alone
    to make the tree content.
    Here and there it shone.

    It knew no pain, no haste,
    wanting only to feel morning,
    then noon, then the slow-paced
    journey of evening.

    Among all the shadows always
    joining eternal shadow,
    shrouding the earth in falseness,
    I loved this steady shadow.

    And thus, at times, it descends
    among us, this meek semblance,
    and lies down, as if drained,
    in grass and in patience.

    Like

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