Obituary of Carolyn Jacinthe Earp
EARP, Carolyn Jacinthe
It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of our beloved Carolyn on Sunday, March 7, 2021 at the young age of 34. She is survived by her two children Matilda and Ethan, her parents Gabriella Loewen and Johnathan Earp. She will be dearly missed by her grandparents Lenna and George Loewen, aunts Christina (Aris) and Dawn (Michael), uncle Adrian Loewen and many cousins.
Carolyn had a great love for music, playing the guitar and piano. She was also a talented writer, painter and poet.
Cremation has taken place and visitation will be held on Saturday, March 20, 2021 from 10 a.m. – 12 p.m. at the GEORGE DARTE FUNERAL HOME, 585 Carlton St., St. Catharines. As per the Province of Ontario Covid-19 regulations - visitation is limited to 30% building capacity. All guests attending the visitation must bring a mask and must call to make an appointment. (905)-937-4444. A private family service will take place on Saturday at 12 p.m. For those wishing to view a livestream of the funeral, you may do so at the following link: https://youtu.be/GAS2UJNCl9k
Memorial donations may be made to the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health, Toronto.
Poetry written by Carolyn
Butterfly Microchip (2002)
Expect the unexpected
Declare the undirected
Flit to and fro like butterflied
Microchips
An implant in every insect
Excepting the expectant
Throughout this digitally
Dictated pre-determination
Of our fates, wills and our
Lives
Struggle, hunt and survive
The sultry drag of a cigarette
Betrays the lonely look of
Scientologist’s eyes
Throughout the damning of dignity
Is the integration of integrity
Into a machine that operates
Solely without soul
Scream, “Damn you BASTARDS!”
Or whisper, “Thank you, God.”
The uncertain eventuality is that
Your heart had better be like
That butterfly,
Removing microchips as you go,
Moving faster than the
Hummingbird flaps her wings
Don’t forget to stop and look at
Pretty things.
From My Bedroom Window (1996)
The tree is stripped naked
Its wooden frame awaits
The crow that perches
on its branches tonight
A silhouette in front of the sky
The sky painted black
Is he the crow eyeing the street below?
His powerful presence
let it be known
To those who fail to
Acknowledge his wisdom
He silently beckons to a mass of black
That comes rolling into his atmosphere
And gracefully separates into
particles of royalty
Like the ashes of a burning moon
Each perched on a throne, a branch of his own
This ceremony I watched
From my bedroom window.
Form of Innocence (1996)
Wide, crystal oceans with black oil spilling out of her lashes
form her eyes
A pearl melts into her nose
cheeks that look like the flute’s smooth sound
droplets of sun in a waterfall rush into her hair
mother of pearl colours her lips
A galaxy sings and weaves through all that is
creating her soul
she is us
We are
she
singing ourselves
into her shapes and form
which does not exist
in our perspective
only if we can paint the
invisible
sing the deaf sounds of
silence
mold the taste of the
non-existent
can we identify her
Innocence
as a child with
wisdom
of an adult.