Notes About The Poem
Emily Dickenson’s “Because I could Not Stop for Death” suggests aging as more than a chronology of years. I couldn’t help wonder what it would be like if the “old of heart” chose to ignore the fear of dying?
Why Bother Dying
Why Bother Dying
Instead...
Revisit the child within
Ask if Van Gogh hadn't experienced the sunflower
Would we know yellow and ochre as intimate friends
Would music's rapture remain alive without
Pavarotti's high C
Coltrane's "Sheets of Sound"
A Shostakovich 1905 Russia
Could scented memories remain permanent
Were ocean salt mere granules in darkness
Pine needle sap but sorrow of nature's longing
Darfur's wafts of boiled rice simply yesterdays past
And what of touch
Given freely by a baby's hand
A mother's lips
A feline's paw
Is this not of permanent storage
To be accessed anytime
From the attic of our minds
Forever willing to give
Receive
Can taste ever be forgotten from
Virgin mountain streams
Warm milk from mothers infinitum
Brackish tears of joy
Such as it is
Aging asks to be but temporary
Committing not to gravity
Tissue disintegration
Or synaptic malaise
Relying rather on our embracing Time
Allowing wisdom to nurture cyclic preparation
Life's pigments layered upon a limitless canvas
Give Time its due
Colors will dry
Purity of vision will appear
Absolute and bodiless as horizons awaiting tomorrow's sunrise
Awaiting another edge ever-changing
For some
Only denial
For others
The journey proceeds
A perpetual hourglass
Remaining in motion
Generating new arrangements
The cosmic sand expanding its window
Giving reflection back to the sun
Renewing fire
Generating passion
Fostering endless vibrations
So
Why bother dying
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