The only way to breathe
Smiling all around a circus of familiar faces,
drawing downward into a bliss of sweet meditation.
My love breathes me in like the taste of humidity sweater of passion dripping down his face.
Shallow waters pull me under.
Pure bliss, what a hope to be surrounded by interjecting voices and squeals waiting high on a hill.
Tumbling down to sweet warm embrace of coming home.
It’s Okay...
Death, I feared.
Not anymore.
Has no hold,
broken bond.
I can smile bright now.
It's going to be okay.
Even though the future,
I know not all about,
Neither the day
Nor the time
When my
appointment will come.
Whatever the day,
Hope tells me
I'll smile and say
It's okay
Because God I've found
I'm free, my mind's sound.
A Breath of Death.
Here I am, finally,
a breath away from peace.
I`ve walked this life, so tiredly,
finding solace among the trees.
I have dreamt and hoped and wished for death,
to take the hand of The Reaper.
All these years short on breath,
I have longed for the calm of the Final Sleeper.
Now, on my humble bed with angels by my side,
I put away my regrets,
I no longer fear those tides.
I will be going soon,
to meet all who I have lost.
I do not cry for their tearful tunes,
I am ready to pay the cost.
They will miss me and ache for a while,
but death is the natural way of things
And I meet him with a smile.
I do love you, my living loved ones,
But I am old and it is my time.
Do not listen to those woeful drums,
Know in your heart that we will meet again,
Sometime.
I ask for you to carry
a memory, though
the burden itself may be
heavier than expected when
you recall a glimpse of me.
It is not my intention to
bring sorrow, rather joy.
A parting moment, smile,
or words of wisdom to employ.
And if this weight becomes
too much, you may certainly concede
to take a breath, a moment,
before you dutifully proceed.
The work you have committed to
in remembering my face
will fulfill the soul's desire
that death cannot erase.
A Life Well Lived
I’ve lived one long life for many years,
And found much to treasure,
A fair share of smiles and tears,
As I reflect on memories with little displeasure,
I think that I surely have had,
A life well lived by any measure.
No, all my dreams I did not yet beget,
But with certainty I say,
Despite it all, I have not one regret.
So if the dream of life now should end,
And soon I wake in the arms of death,
Why not greet him as a friend?
As my story comes to its final chapter,
Let it in the epilogue be said:
With friends and family around her,
She died not with fear, but a smile instead.
Lather. Live. Repeat.
At the Gates again, though I don't know
Who the Gatekeeper is this time.
I don't even remember how many times I've been here.
Was it a sprint or a marathon this time?
High jump, long jump, or triple jump?
Did my world end in fire, or ice?
Did I have my good shorts on?
Did I leave a legacy, and if so, was it
Fame, or infamy?
Did anyone weep, or did anyone
Cheer?
Which did I do, if either?
A wry grin erupts on my face as I realize
None of this actually even means
A goddamn thing.
Old Friends.
Let me tell you a story, wanderer. Let me tell you a story, wanderer.
Let me set the scene.
The first time I thought I'd met with Death,
I was this little thing.
I'd just eaten a bit too much,
Or so the doctor said.
They took me to the hospital
And I was told to lose some weight, fix my small body, how simple
So it wouldn't happen again.
Years later, I still struggle with
Breathing problems from time to time,
Ask my inhaler if you doubt me
Panic attacks make me lose my breath as well, yet another factor
Not sure "pigging out" and softness were truly the issue, anymore.
And don't get me wrong, we see little glimpses of him at random, don't we?
When you take that near misstep off the stairs and imagine ourselves tumbling, tumbling...
When we close our eyes and try to flash forward, try to imagine what it would be like to drown, to sink, to fly?
Death and I are old friends.
Old friends that have never truly met.
He's been a comfort in times Life was so difficult I couldn't breathe, anymore.
The thought of him reminded me of a peace I am yet to know.
So I wrote him letters, called to him desperately, asked for freedom the only way I knew how
And Death, kind as he is, said nothing.
Some days, I'm still unsure of whether he did me a service or the opposite
I'm still here, still alive and still kicking despite..
I'm not okay, not quite yet
But I can tell you genuinely that I got better.
Sometimes I still dance with a dream of him in the shadows of my mind
But I'm learning to let go.
He'll visit at his own time
And when he does?
We'll meet like old friends, do our little dance once the show is over
For now though, his disinterest in my pleas has made him my biggest cheerleader.
So let's give this thing a good go for as long as it lasts.
As I lay
As I lay here progressively losing weight
I can see shifts and changes in the light
Even my hand appears rather heavy
As sleep beckons me once more and one shadow becomes many
Outside becomes a soft orchestra
The final sound that shall lay upon my ears as my eyes behold it's aura
My skin feels akin to ocean waves
With every pulse, I see the memories that my mind saves
Outside of these walls, away from this bed
Life had been harsh and had gotten to my head
As seconds pass, I realize
Perhaps it all was minimal in size
A smile creeps across my face as I close my eyes a final time
Outright inviting death, sticking to nature's rhythm and rhyme
The warmth of this blanket, nothing can compete
For the final thing I shall feel is a cozy heat
Things appear simpler now
There's no rush or wonders of why and how
This is all there is, this is all I'll miss
Or maybe not at all as the world outside is a gnarly hiss
Under these sheets, I may be alone
But that's the most peaceful part I feel in my bone
I know there's only adventure ahead of me
For no one knows the afterlife or what it could be