[Back To Main Blog]
Would that you knew how greatly You are guided in this holy catastrophe
Where all is doomed and fire consumes
And you are certain beyond certain
That you are unutterably, unfailingly alone.
At my funeral, I have a few small requests. If you don’t mind, I’ll share them now.
I’d like you to bring food for the local food bank
And a piece of art, good art, art with soul, for the local shelter.
You brought gifts to me for so many birthdays
And Christmas days and Mother’s days
Why not on this day
Only this time for someone in need?
I’m downsizing anyway.
You think you’re not pinned in, like some butterfly on a black velvet wall in a nice walnut frame?
Try peeing in a bedpan, yelling at a teacher or challenging a cop.
Try crossing family values without imagining your mom giving you that look, or your dad shaking his head, or your ex saying you’d better watch it.
Things were different from how everyone said it would be. Forty and then some, getting soft under the chin and arms, divorced from the way things were.
I was not left alone; did not become unremarkable.
Lovers did not cease to bring wine to my lips, gifts to my soul.