The Life that I Have

Leo Marks

(1920-2001)

The back story to this poem explains why it made the cut. In World War II, Leo Marks, a natural at cryptography, worked with the Special Operations Executive, a British intelligence group—not the famed Bletchley Park organization, but one of considerable importance. He wrote the poem to mark a friend’s death but used it later to help agents more effectively transmit messages from behind the lines. These agents were at great risk of being caught, so a coding process that was hard to break and required fewer re-transmissions due to errors was of great value. Agents who got caught might be killed and, importantly from the point of view of the war effort, might be turned. If agents were turned, their captors might transmit misinformation. Moreover, once the network was compromised in that manner, it would be nearly impossible to know which transmissions were genuine and which were fraudulent. So, a great deal depended on a secure means of transmitting messages.

Before Marks, agents’ messages were often encoded using keys tied to familiar poems. The familiar poems were easy to memorize but, due to their familiarity, a code breaker who figured out just a phrase or even a single word could decode the entire message. To preclude this possibility, Marks used original poems—his own. The most famous is the one he gave to the agent Violette Szabo—The Life that I Have. The poem originally gained popularity when it was used in the 1958 film about Szabo, Carve Her Name With Pride. Her story is worth looking up.[1] She also bears a striking resemblance to Ingrid Bergman. More recently, the poem was recited at Chelsea Clinton’s wedding. So, it may experience another surge of popularity.

The Life that I Have

The life that I have is all that I have

And the life that I have is yours.

The love that I have for the life that I have

Is yours and yours and yours.

A rest I shall have

A sleep I shall have

Yet death will be but a pause.

For the peace of my years in the long green grass

Will be yours and yours and yours.

As I mentioned earlier my wife and I have a running joke that may be the worst joke ever. Both of us say we want to be the first to die, to avoid the grief of living without the other. “I’m dying first.” “Oh no you don’t; I’m dying first.” Underlying the bad joke is the hard reality of loving someone—if they die, you will have to continue on and experience the grief. The poem addresses this prospect in a gentle way. The voice in the poem comes from a person who knows that he or she will be leaving someone behind and wishes to offer consolation. This is a sweet and wonderful final gift.

I have not experienced the gift first-hand, but I knew Dr. Frank Roach, a psychiatrist at the hospital where I did my internship. When Frank learned he was dying, he found time to talk with each person at the hospital with whom he had a strong relationship. He told each one how much they had meant to him, what they had taught him and how grateful he was to have known them. When I learned of this, I wasn’t in the least surprised. He was that kind of man. I was moved, though, and I thought that it was a perfect way to say good-bye.

The poem’s final blessing offers comfort to the loved one who will continue on:

For the peace of my years in the long green grass

Will be yours and yours and yours.

The poem is short and has a simple structure. I probably had it memorized within five minutes and it stays in memory with little or no effort. It comes to me when I attend a wake or funeral, especially when I see those who are grieving, and I hope they can find some peace again soon.

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[1] Violette Szabo’s citation upon being posthumously awarded the George Cross, the United Kingdom’s highest civilian decoration: “Madame Szabo volunteered to undertake a particularly dangerous mission in France. She was parachuted into France in April, 1944, and undertook the task with enthusiasm. In her execution of the delicate researches entailed she showed great presence of mind and astuteness. She was twice arrested by the German security authorities but each time managed to get away. Eventually, however, with other members of her group, she was surrounded by the Gestapo in a house in the South West of France. Resistance appeared hopeless but Madame Szabo, seizing a Sten-gun and as much ammunition as she could carry, barricaded herself in part of the house and, exchanging shot for shot with the enemy, killed or wounded several of them. By constant movement, she avoided being cornered and fought until she dropped exhausted. She was arrested and had to undergo solitary confinement. She was then continuously and atrociously tortured but never by word or deed gave away any of her acquaintances or told the enemy anything of any value. She was ultimately executed. Madame Szabo gave a magnificent example of courage and steadfastness.”