Day Four

Day Four
———
.
When I need something appropriate, to please
I seldom find satisfaction within my memories
but they’re all I’ve recorded, all I have as offerings
so I reject the past and look to present possibilities
.
Each moment is unique despite its symmetry
each thought, internal tug, lone in my history
That’s why when opportunity calls me
I record each word;
immortalising them all.
.
So it’s Day Four with no knock on the door
We’ll just see what comes out, no step and no fall;
No debate on which path to take, no care and no war,
No inflated sense of what awaits;
no, nothing at all
.
Just a runny nose and a stomach ache, and a pack of
cigarettes more, to be
consumed by the lungs that crave
a pack of cigarettes more
.
and another
until they conflagrate and are sated.
.
They’ll come for me then;
Place still hands folded across the still chest
that didn’t breathe once more.
And my family, what will they see?
Who once knew me to be, so healthy,
So spirited; so alive
.
what will they see?
.
They’ll see me like I saw
my mother’s father who
recently passed away.
.
He was very old. His mind was decaying.
I saw them tuck him in and place roses,
coloured paper folded across
the still chest that had barely
breathed its last breath
.
The spirit that had barely separated left;
A wispy shadow of the soul I so loved
Slipping from my hands, my heart, my life
to rest above
.
To watch…
Observe…
Espy from the sky…
.
until my lungs have heaved their final goodbye
.
when all my moments have added up.
.
.
Day Four… there’s gotta be a few days more.
.
<end/arken2002>