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When Death Calls
When death calls, all is forgotten.
Chores are left undone.
Paintings are left unpainted.
Poems are left unwritten.
Suicidal ideation fantasizes.
The illusion of escapes rules.
Then, I go to the garden
Planting from dawn to dusk,
Escaping self-destructions.
One more time, I painfully wait
So God can call me to eternity.
Tomorrow, flowers will bloom.
Photographs will be taken.
Life will be made full
Until the ideation returns
...to suck out my joy.
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