in the darkness
the din of agony
i still dance
life is to be celebrated
in adversity
the direness of circumstance
i still dance
life is teaching me something
in the face of the inevitable
creeping ever closer or unexpectedly
i still dance
life isn’t over yet
in acceptance
i know my fate
i still dance
yet my life will end
The great escape, whatever shape or form it takes.
Some day soon I will take the high roadÂ
The blue sky will be my coverÂ
Ripped and torn green valleys below
Filled with whitethorn and birdsong
I can see those below in daily toil
Follow the path, neither left nor right
Walking straight into the far horizon
In thin air, in view of the waiting life
Living in promises and the past denied
Brought here seeking to meet the sky
Leaving their life behind in the past
Within the net they have always cast
Stoic Poetry
Hal had me pondering a bit more about this recent piece…
Taken
It still astounds me
how fast and unforgiving
fate’s hands can be.
How can a life be so
quickly and relentlessly taken…
Without any fucking remorse?
As life comes at us, it certainly does feel like it has no remorse. At times, it feels relentless in providing us one lash of the whip after the other, doesn’t it? Bit of a sadist, I’d also say. After reflection, my answer to the question posed in the piece is simply this…
Nature is an immortal and indiscriminate serial killer.
What do you think? And what does it take to keep on going?
my head is light
as i breathe in deeply
only to exhale a cough’s sputum
i follow it with a gasp
while clutching my worn-out chest
the morning light begins to crown my window sill
another day survived
the neighbor’s dog proceeds to bark
sunrays drift in to shine brightly
the paste in my mouth tastes acrid
i sigh as my defeat begins to show
the choice before me is to go on
or open up to accept the divine
this might be my last day
Inspired by Sadje’s What do you see #51, Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Foresight &
VJ’s Weekly Challenge – Reason
we watched the grains of sand dwindle
even with foresight and understanding
the reason our bodies have given up
is not a mystery
death is upon us
time has run out
it’s useless reaching up at dusk
to reverse course
#Whatdoyousee
mosquitos
botflies
killer bees
tsetse flies
now murderous hornets
the winged demons
are out to get us
they say
don’t you know
life is always trying to kill us
enjoy your life
take precautions
but do engage
don’t fear everything
statistically, you’ll still live a long one
There once was a man named Tutt,
who got shot and fell on his butt.
All because of a pocket-watch he stole,
Wild Bill’s bullet caused the new hole.
“Boys, I am killed.” Dying, his mouth shut.
breathing is living
living is slowly dying
dying begins us
Pictures and scenery from years gone by flash before my eyes as I’m laying here on my deathbed. I’m simultaneously smiling and crying, wishing to be back in those memories as a more willing participant rather than just as a casual observer.
Who would have ever thought that desire to experience those times again would creep into my psyche? Weren’t those experiences hard the first time? Now laying here I realize, accepting this unfulfilled life is much harder to endure than all the things I had to go through while I was still young or even middle-aged.
Before withering away to my end, I had only watched the days go by without me really participating in them or enjoying sharing good times with others. Now, it’s an even lonelier existence. A hospital bed and my dreams to give me my only real comfort now; closing my eyes make me an audience of one to my past.
I experience a rare joy when nurses or doctors come to call. I can smile a bit with them, forget the sadness I feel. Then they leave and once again I am by myself, alone with my physical pain and my emotional sorrow. The tears flow silently, streaking my face like tiny little rivers through the cracks of my aged appearance.
Looking up, the ceiling offers no hope for some sort of release. I find the only way to escape this dreary loneliness is to sleep and join those characters that brought me what was, in hindsight, the most joy throughout my life. Experiences that I didn’t really know how to appreciate or even understand at the time. Simple pleasures like just being with someone I cared about and truly enjoying the time spent together. Looking at the sunset and its beautiful shades of color as it dipped down below the tree line. Feeling the wind blowing and licking my skin with its light, feathery touch. The little tingles of love and appreciation I should have felt when my children looked at me adoringly. If only I had taken the time to really let all those good things resonate in me deeply. If only I had been an active participant in my life while I had the chance then maybe the sadness now wouldn’t be so profoundly devastating.
I built a lifetime of feeling alone and preoccupied. Connecting to my existence, fully engulfing my experiences could have – oh, they would have – made for a richer take-away than what I chose to be left with at that time. So now I’ll exit this world with only memories, their impact and meaning only now being revealed; a lesson of life learned much too late.
**Originally published on PhiloSusi 4/16/2014. Reposted with minor revisions.
I Write Her 