The Final Hour: A Poem on Accepting Mortality

Thoughts on a Rainy Tuesday

Thoughts on a Rainy Tuesday

Image created author using Bing Image Creator

If I could take it all back, I wouldn’t. 
If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t.
If I could stop her from getting pregnant at 19, I wouldn’t.
If I could choose that computer career, I wouldn’t.

Living with no regrets doesn’t mean we don’t look back.
It means we only look forward with patience and care.

I read stories about Lao-tzu riding off into the sunset on a water buffalo.
I dream of a fancy, emotionally powerful, and dramatic end. 
But I also dream of screaming and fighting until death has to drag me to the hell that awaits.

Most people leave their forms in a hospice bed too high on drugs to speak. 
I want to feel my final moments. 
I want to see what it is that comes next and speak the truth until the truth speaks to me.

Since I was a kid, I thought I would die in my 50’s. 
Only 10 years to go. Not much time left. 
Ears ringing, feet hurt, joints pop, toe hurts, headaches, grey hair…everywhere.

I thought I’d suddenly wake up and be an adult one day and not care. 
I thought I’d find peace in my life or realize the bigger picture. 
Instead I’m just 15 going on 41. 
I know how it happened and I know how it ends.

When my time comes, I want to greet death as equals and leave under my own terms.

But I’ll probably go on the toilet instead.