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Friday, August 30, 2013

Details on Dying





I died last night

in dreams
I have been told
you can not die
but I did.

An endless tumbling free fall,
emptied me of envy, longing  

fireflies
fluttering, sensory recollections
escaped
well worn, and
overgrown neural pathways
flickering
the most mundane details
into the thick night air. . .

soft rustle of wind in the bamboo stalks
I planted outside my bedroom window
fuzzy dog chin nestled in the crook of my elbow
tangy scent of fresh cut grass
spring sun on kneecaps
cool pillow when you turn it over at 4 am
first bite of a zebra heirloom tomato

Life is
miraculous moments
every day

the joy clamoring up my throat when I hear quickening tich tich tich of nails on hard wood as my dog runs to leap in my lap during an afternoon nap

the perfect crooked smile when my friend laughs and does not self consciously cover the scar on her chin

comforting din of overlapping dinner conversations

scent of rosemary on your fingers after running your hand along the bush as you walk by


These events
dim
in the search for happiness, satisfaction, security.
Everything
we are told
we need.

Dying in a black dreamscape  
neural fireflies hum
pay attention
to all the unassuming details

summer hailstorm splattering jazz notes
tide pool swirl of cream in morning coffee
warm sidewalk on  bare feet, toes flexed out with freedom
starlings darting through trees, tiny bolts of lighting
the compressed silence of floating underwater
sticky scent of fennel
startled guffaw of delighted little girl discovering how to splatter mud puddles
a cloud shaped like a spine

People say, Make memories!
as if they are not already occurring  
brilliantly before us

I don’t need to
make
anything.

Simply share
in the mundane,
each moment
unfolding  

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