On Death and Dying
-after title of book by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
Ants attacked our kitchen
last week, it’s the heat wave
that drives them
inside. They risk everything
for the promise of a mere
drop of water
in the sink, or what we call crumbs
on the counter. The smell
of sustenance traveling out
like a siren, through floorboards,
windows, the new doors even.
The myriad ways into a home
cannot keep out
something so small. They don’t know
how I fear their approach,
lie awake ready for morning
war moves. They can’t imagine
how little
I value them. The pests
walk into the trap of me, marching
to their own drumbeat, oblivious
as we are, unaware when the hand
will come down on backs,
hearts, breath. I watched
a memorial of a friend
last night, now we can see
these things on video,
my mother would think
that undignified, yet I would
have cherished it for hers.
I couldn’t be there then, my tiny
daughter in my arms miles away.
Do we always glorify
the dead? Is this a good reason
to die, to redeem ourselves?
The grieving widow recounting
how well David loved her shamed
me for the chances I have missed
to love better. But in death,
maybe they would say
otherwise of me. So would I rather
be here trying harder or dying
with a legacy all sewn up?
Maybe it’s our residue
that inspires others, like how I am
freshly awakened because
of him. Is that a good reason to die?
To serve others. Or when given a choice
would we all just desperately seek
any way in to get what we need
to live another day?