I don't know
How it is we go
And I do not know why;
Only that,
One day,
The time seems up
And death catches up to us,
The nasty bugger.
And if we are lucky,
We are given the opportunity
For a long battle
Before having to give in.
Like my grandmother, who has yet to die;
Or my grandfathers, who both have.
Or all the pets I've loved.
This is a poem about someone
I did not know too well
But that I knew nonetheless,
Who is now gone.
I say 'gone' because I do not presume
To know if and where she went to.
I've never understood what lies
Beyond consciousness,
Somehow Within
the deep black of peace:
I know we are not just
The sum of our deaths,
Large and small.
Not just the sum of
The little deaths
That beat us down--
Little angry cavemen--
Over and over
Until we are too frail to fight.
I know this.
Sue was warm and peaceful
And talented and kind,
A treasure to her family and friends.
But she has ultimately lost
the consciousness
Or will
to persist, her little body giving up where
Her spirit takes over.
This is the haunting part:
That others know her better,
Love her, I am sure, more,
But that I am compelled to write the poem
Yesterday,
She went,
And I was told she went
Warm and Peacefully
Surrounded by love;
And what else can possibly be asked for,
life to be fully spared
And restored to its former state?
I know not such a noble maker.
Yesterday,
She went,
Breath barely escaping her one last time,
Entering, perhaps:
a great, twirling dream.
