Friday, December 4, 2015

promise of the end

I would like to welcome death,
hang a banner on my door,
prepare a feast,
write a poem
for an old friend whose forgiveness I seek.
But I am afraid to tell you,
afraid that you will be afraid
to see the gentle promise
that death brings.
Because I can love you
and leave you at the same time,
this life in which I do not fit
 there isn't enough time
to dig up all the dirt in my garden
to pay back the debts I owe,
the loves I needed and destroyed
the bodies I touched and breathed in and touched and breathed in again every time
 I work my fingers deep into the earth,
this life of coming
what's wrong with leaving
this world
at once too much and insignificant?
I leave it each morning
I get to wake up with you,
each night with the cool breeze moving
through the windows,
 across a sky so dark space
is just the beginning,
what a relief
when time stops counting in days
stops being lost or wasted
on measures of things.
instead it just is. and I just am
together we exist until
we don't. that is death's gentle

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