Ode to Death (better title?) pc
We avoid death
but it is an everyday thing.
It keeps us going,
in some ways more than life.
It measures time.
It makes the stories.
It motivates compulsions.
It writes the narratives.
Death is on purpose.
Life is the accident.
Death is the necessity.
It is the pulse underneath
that pushes ahead.
A timed engine, pumping so
there’s motion on top.
Death tells you when to eat.
How to catch it. How not to catch it.
It tells you when to be social,
when to be horny, when to let go,
and when to hang on.
It marks all the moments
and occasionally makes one stand out
as perfect in its beauty and stillness.
Death makes us seekers; it creates the questions.
It shows us miracles. It supplies all the meaning.
Death hides in every smile.
It electrifies every touch. It holds our hand
while we hold hands.
Death has no eyes, no tears, no smell, no taste.
They belong to fear in the living.
To the sorrow that doesn’t see.
The feeling that there is something else
in the now, in the next now.
That moves like a crab skulking back
and forth for no apparent reason
other than it is a crab and not the sea.