there’s an old legend, from the interior valley where i was born about how death came into this world and i will tell you as it was told to me. different tellings exist amongst the different nations and this is the one told to me as a child.
in the time before time, there was no death. everyone lived forever. raven, a greedy chief of the north, came upon the great coyote and along with his friends crow and worm and maggot, beseeched coyote that all things should die and be dead always because there would be too many people and animals eventually. they said this with one side of their laughing mouths, but truly they wanted to have a great feast of yummy and delicious rotten meat. coyote, thought for a while, and suggested that perhaps death could be like a long sleep. raven said no. death would be death and that was that. death would be forever.
coyote agreed, “and then it is done” he said.
and from that moment on, all things would die.
raven’s daughter was the first to fall ill.
she grew weak and sick, slipping away.
raven’s daughter was the first to die.
raven was distraught, and he flew to coyote to beg before him – “take it back”, he squawked through his tears. “take it back,” he bawled. the grief he felt was the first grief, the first pain of loss.
but coyote would not.
“it is done”, coyote said.
and this is how death came to this world.
raven was first to feel grief and he wears black forever, for always.
hospital vespers 