Waiting to die.
I’m settled in my last home,
Just waiting to die.
All my life I have lived well,
I have lived voraciously,
I have loved eternally
But It is time to die.
I have always been driven by curiosity,
Let me see, let me feel,
let me eat something new
A new street, a new neighbourhood, a new country
Don’t go back, keep going
Keep seeing, keep knowing, keep loving
I have always loved here.
But I want to go there.
Every pasture is greener
Even if dirtier, poorer, grimier.
I have been there.
I have lived there, I have loved there
There is always something new to learn
There is no oxygen there now.
Not for me,
Only here.
In this last abode my inmates wait.
We are all waiting to die.
At meals we often note an empty seat.
We ask. Is Alice ok?
More often than not
We are told Alice passed away last night.
One by one we are picked off.
Oddly, I find a secrecy around each passing.
No celebration, no acknowledgment, nothing!
Only the whispers.
Perhaps it is considered too distressing for the living
To realize how fast we are dying off.
We always knew we would die
but now it’s the imminence,
That is the difference.
It’s a remarkable feeling to know
That today we exist,
But tomorrow we are but a memory.
Every morning is a surprise anew.
A joy that each new day brings,
Reading, being with one’s lover,
Sharing intimacies, being intimate,
Watching offspring flourish from afar.
Enjoying earths nature, anew.
Two score and twenty years ago
We pledged till death do us part.
We wait,. . . Joyously, without regret.
Diakiwsblog 