Phil's poem

My friend and mentor Phil Druker recently passed away. He left a list of places where he would've liked his ashes to be spread to. Along with the list, he left the poem below.


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Will I try to find all these spots?

Will I become a raven or an eagle or a robin or a finch or a hawk?
Is this just a way to help you remember me?

These are the places I want you to remember me.
Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe I’ll spend eternity wandering the hills
looking for myself. Well, that’d be better than planted under a tree
and then someone comes by and cuts down the tree.

Some say that when you die, it’s like turning off a computer.
I don’t believe it. I am here in the wind of the ponderosa pines, in the
snow falling in the mountains, in the hoarfrost glinting in the
moonlight, in the shooting stars blossoming on the rivers’ bank, in the
roar of the rapids, in the quiet of the pools, in the crackle of the fire,
in the laughter of friends, in the tears and smiles of lovers,
in the sigh of mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters.

Let me go. Move on.
I have always been here for you.
I always will be here for you.

-Phil Druker