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Poem
Benjamin Franklin said
“but in this world nothing 
can be said to be certain, 
except death and taxes.”
Paying tax may be painful
Yet our death is the singular 
Most feared eventuality. 
For us all, we know from birth
We will, at some point, reach the end. 
So many say clichés,
Don’t waste time
Not a rehearsal
No pockets in a shroud
YOLO. 
All true, yet what I fear
More than my demise,
The final breath, 
The end of existence, 
Is the fact I will be forgotten. 
I will be mourned, I guess,
Never a certainty. 
I will be missed,  
In  whatever measure. 
My children will grieve. 
The loss of a parent at any age, 
Disruption, normality smashed. 
The day after a fatality, 
Of an elder, parent, 
The first day in this earth without them. 
Raw. 
But time passes, 
Grieve eases, 
Mourning  peters out
And life continues for those
Still residing on this mortal coil. 
The fact I will be forgotten. 
A day to day memory
Becomes weekly, monthly
Annually on special anniversaries. 
In time those who dwelt
Along side me in this plane
Will join me on the other side. 
In the realm where we know not
What happened until we get there. 
If anything. 
The ultimate unknown. 
My name once dropped in conversation
Tense changing from present to past 
Then distant memory. 
Then what? 
I fear one day I will 
No longer echo in the mouth
Skip from the lips
Of those who knew me in life. 
They too will become a distant memory
for those who dwelt and walked with them. 
I cannot change how
Others will choose to
Remember me when I am gone. 
Yet to pay it forward
With a wing and a prayer
I choose to remember those
Who walked before me. 
I did not know them
Yet as I move through
The graveyards and cemeteries 
Scattered on this land,
I speak forth, out loud
The names of those who 
Dwell in the next world. 
Allowing their names to
Echo in my mouth
Skip from my lips. 
Bringing back the energy lost
To time and space,
Since their last breath was drawn. 
Young and old, man and woman,
Child and criminal, saint and sinner. 
All of us leave our stretch, 
Square with the house. 
So speak forth the names
Of those who shaped our world,
Bore our ancestors and 
Hope your name is uttered
By Generations to come, 
by those who come after.
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