Performance Review

poem

Photo by Keagan Henman on Unsplash

Of course, I'm afraid
of dying. Of course,
I lie awake in the dark,

lie warm in the bath,
lie shivering in
the wild grass, and do

the mortal math.
Have I been more
often good than not?

I know that I've been
caught napping, caught
in the act, caught between

worlds, caught in
the trap, caught unaware,
caught in the mouth

of the whale, caught
by the tail, caught
by the fire, caught

on the wire, caught
in the tower, caught
by fever and fad,

caught by the mad,
caught by lightning,
caught by the net,

caught by surprise,
caught on the run,
and caught by a kiss.

O, Shame, Guilt, Regret,
and Embarrassment are on 
my Most Contacted List. 

But, hey, I also know that
I've been extraordinarily 
blessed so I'd like to stay

alive as long as possible
and be immersed
in all that is sacred,

common, dangerous,
and farcical. I want
to spend a few more 

decades being shaken
by books, movies,
music, and people.

I want to hear the poets
shout blasphemies
from the holy

and secular steeples.
I want to grow so old
that my wrinkles

become geographic.
But none of us, except
the terminally ill

and suicidal, know
when we're going
to die. Our deaths

are unplanned
and unexpected.
That's how it goes.

One day, you're holding
the red rose and then,
a day later, you're food

for the mushrooms
and orchids. That's morbid
thinking, I suppose,

but everything that grows
keeps growing
because other things die.

So I hope that my death
gives heat and light
to a new generation

of something beautiful
utilitarian, profound,
and entertaining. So,

in thinking about
my funeral and wake,
in thinking of my last

day above earth,
in thinking of my body
dressed in my beaded

vest in the coffin,
I'm sad that I won't be
able to hear my family

and friends tell
the many hilarious
stories about my Indian

boy foolishness,
about all my sins, 
misses, and graces.

I don't believe in
the hereafter but I might
embrace more

faith if that faith
guaranteed a death illuminated 
by posthumous laughter.