Below is the poem by John Donne titled Death, Be Not Proud. It has been on my mind this week because Audrey Assad released an EP with the same title. It is a dark but triumphant poem. Death is personified and warned against his pride because his demise is already assured. I encourage you to read it more than once. Read it quickly, drinking in large gulps. Then sip it; read it slowly, thinking about each line. Let it conjure thoughts of your mortality and let it answer your fears with the hope you have even in the midst of sorrow. If you have $5 to spare I would encourage you to pick up Audrey Assad’s new EP. The title track is a treatment of this poem and it alone is worth your money. Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.