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