Photo credit: Upsplash / Anton-Darius-Thesollers

Life and Death

Tonight I think of how death

teaches us how to live —

crocheted in beloved family mortalities

nestled in screams cupped by answers

to live by, encased with mirrors

as reminders to enjoy simple pleasures.

Or maybe it’s that Buddhist textbook

with earmarked pages perched

on my bedside table

which describes our powers

of living by beginning in present moment —

gears fixed in slow motion,

like time spent time brushing our teeth,

watering flowers, walking our gardens

or meandering meditations in local parks.

Or maybe it’s those dead philosophers

like Socrates who profess that death

has no place in our lives.

Maybe I feel this way because

my many friends died last year,

and memories of mother in oblivion

in intensive care after multiple tumbles

from her aged horse’s back,

as she approaches ninety. Is this nature’s song

and a reminder to forge ahead

dwell in the moment

and make the best of each day?

Maybe my prayer will be answered

or maybe tonight I will slip into sleep

and not wake up or feel satisfaction

because I knew how to smell flowers

and water my internal garden,

and give myself permission to live.