What do you do
In the grotesque face of
Death?
Do you smile, in your dumb shadowy fear?
Do you remain stoic and tight-lipped like a 5th century Grecian?
I got out of my electric car to charge it
And I heard myself emit a sound between a human sigh and a wounded wolf.
Glancing up I caught a man’s eyes
I did not look away.
He removed his eyes quickly
For he’d surely seen something
Feral
In me.
And I ask myself, naked before God,
Before
The world:
What does it take to let go?
To accept this?
To be free?
What does it take? Everything and no/thing. The singular thing it doesn't take is time. Time took it.
(Anyway, I am ill equipped to answer. At 92, my close friend, my mother, is likely now in here final days and if not, then definitely in the end of this final season of her wonderful, singlular life. We only just had the memorial for my younger brother who died in his mid 50s a month ago yesterday. One thing I know, "I did not look away.")
Very moving, Michael.