Poem: Thinking about Dying

Crow On The Wire

Thinking about dying makes me spend more time
doing pleasurable things.

Like eating my favorite flavor of non-dairy ice-cream,
breathing in the salty air of an ocean wave,
taking a longer look at an arching rainbow,
or catching a glimpse of a hummingbird in motion.

Thinking about dying makes me focus
on the precious breaths, I have left,
and not losing patience by the slow service of the cashier
or the way the hair stands awkwardly
on my sparsely-covered pate.

Thinking about dying tells me
not to worry about unread texts or voice mail
or checking the mirror more than once
to see if all those wrinkles on my forehead 
had melted away.

Thinking about dying reminds me
to let go of the vanity
and all those meaningless moments
that I wasted
not being grateful.

–This poem was originally posted in Literary Yard in a slightly different form.

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2 thoughts on “Poem: Thinking about Dying

  1. Your poem says so much, Jenanita. Thank you. Since I became an ‘octo’ and glimpsed the Grim Reaper sharpening his scythe…my pleasures are manifold…Gratefulness and awareness have always been part of me (I had good parents!) but thankfulness has swelled to balloon size. My food tastes better; flowers more colourful, I bow daily to all Mother Nature’s bounties. I am on a small pension, but rich compared to a large proportion of the world’s populace. Being a writer, I sometimes feel I have the whole world inside me to wonder at… My pleasures are simplified:daylight more precious than artificial…l wouldn’t thank you for a glass of champagne ( each to his own…) but admit to being a hedonist as I still crave my daily fix of dark chocolate. Yum! Top of the list though, there is nothing quite like good health, friends and family and having the ability to love and appreciate it all. Hugs. x

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