I heard you died. It came across
In Facebook feed. O, what a loss
For me, for sure. I haven’t seen
You much of late, but you have been
A person on my homing range.
I knew someday that that would change–
I ain’t no fool. Mortality
Is part of life for you and me.
Just that, now you’ve gone, I see
How inconvenient death can be.
Your death is likewise loss for you,
I know you must feel pretty blue
For you had energy and drive
That drove you well while still alive.
I’m sure it’s hard to sever now
The line that’s tied you to life’s flow.
O when I saw that you had died
I did not rage against life’s tide.
Perplexed, instead, I felt a bit.
For how to reach you now and chat
About our little this and that
That seemed important in the tome
Expressed through corporeal home?
So selfish, yes, I haste admit.
I should be more attuned to how
This undercuts your here and now.
You must be bummed to fizzle out–
You had other plans, no doubt!
Perhaps another barbecue?
A laugh with friends, a sunset view?
I really have no insight here–
We’ve grown apart so long, I fear.
And yet you always seemed to be
A personage, conveniently,
Who stayed the existential course
With bonhomie and tour de force.
I think of this when sneeze and cough
Are making me a little off.
Or thoughts are shadowed by a cloud
Or voiced inside are quite loud.
Conveniently, I’m still alive.
Mundanities I can contrive
To tussle with in ebb and flow
Of daily tasks and cups o’ joe.
Your lack of being – not to fuss –
Must make these trifles onerous.
How difficult to empty trash,
Share memories and throw a bash!
And grueling, too, to figure out
What future time is all about
When nothingness looms all and large
With lack of sentience in charge.
So sorry you must suffer through
This inconvenience making you
Incapable of being here.
You were well loved. You were so dear.
A sloppy sentiment expressed
As best we can, a last bequest
When nothingness is really you
And nothing else can ever do.
Memory, they say, will make
You live another day and break
Some hearts along the way as you
Forsake all future days.
-end-
Laurie Schreiber is a Maine-based magazine writer. She has written rhymes on and off for a long time; over the past few years, it’s become a focus. Her other interests include travel. She’s biked for months at a time through Europe and Asia and continues to travel.