REFLECTIONS ON DEATH

Death, the intangible, mysterious thing

Not only the cessation of life here

A thing

The Mexicans dance

With half their face painted like a skull

On Dia de los Muertos

The Day of the Dead

Some call it Completing the Circle of Life

As in the Mayan prayer

“We come into the world, and we go out of the world

“Remember that every morning”

I used to think only of the afterlife

And so there was no death

We think of those we loved

And go on without their company

Can’t talk to them anymore

Probably around twenty-five or thirty years till

My death.  I can see it, sometimes.

Till I complete the circle of life

This world is all I know

Despite Swedenborg’s visions

Or the five experiences of the Indigenous man I heard

One doesn’t want to let go of what one knows

Let go of what I know

The Indigenous man knew

Things look different if my life continues

If I sit next to my grandfather, next to a flowing river that is all love

Consequences matter more, matter infinitely more

Than if death ends it

Then the world looks different

When death is a palpable thing

The mysterious dance of the Mexicans

That will be for me in twenty-five to thirty or so years

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