My Last Days
Inspired by Andrea Gibson, Poet Lauriat
Their use of Cliché and What Matters at the End
My expiration date is coming
sooner than I can grasp.
I can’t read the date,
but time marches on with more persistence
after 82.
What tune will play in my parade going forward?
The tune of weeping over pain?
The tune of lamenting lost function?
Music in doctors’ waiting rooms?
The tune of no longer able to blah, blah, blah?
No!
In March I shall plant my gardens with fullest colors
marching with joy through summer in shades of
yellow, orange, blue, red, and pink.
They will say, your gardens are breathtaking.
I shall make quilts from family jeans
and we will recollect fond memories
like tiny denims with snaps
for changing diapers
for a grandson now six foot four.
I shall revel in ski racing of one grand
and new love so tender and thrilling of another grand,
and the wonder and exhilaration of a great-grand
discovering a bustling ant on the sidewalk.
I shall rejoice in the love, kindness, and patience of my husband
always selfless and forever generous with his time and love
for family and friends.
Our hands clasp as we walk in the forest,
Magpies’ cries in the distance.
Our hands join as we watch the sun rise, brilliant over mountains.
Our hands hold as a new series on TV grips our attention.
I shall immerse myself in words,
books I will read, essays I will write,
poems I will ponder.
I shall listen to my friends’ and family’s angst,
treasure and celebrate their happy times,
sip tea and raise a glass with those I love.
I shall be uplifted by nature.
The owl hooting in the dark in our backyard Poderosa Pine.
A shooting star ripping through our galaxy and a half-moon glimmering.
Iridescent, foamy waves breaking on the sand.
Wings of hummingbirds fluttering 4000 times a minute.
Mosquito larvae hatching in a parking lot puddle.
My hair ensnared in a sticky web artfully created by a spider.
I shall march to the beat of my ancestors’ hearts
supporting the rights and
protesting the wrongs
committed in discrimination and hatred
against those considered “other.”
I shall travel to understand cultures and
traditions of faraway lands.
View their tulips and windmills.
Experience the flavors of Sannakji in the Philippines,
marmite in Australia, and Beondegi in South Korea.
I shall value the meaning of Buddha, Allah,
the Great Sphinx, Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva,
Virgin Mary, and Zeus,
and especially Brigid,
the Celtic goddess of medicine and poetry,
and always Otso, the divine spirit bear of the forest
in ancient Finland who
brings strength, wisdom, and healing.