A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
I’ve been putting it off and now my doctor says it’s time.
Do not resuscitate unless you can reset me to age one.
Please unhook everything that holds me to my life
and especially my cravings and addictions so that in
my last moment I might know who I am beneath
who I think I am, and hear the name beneath the name.
For those who rejected me I leave what they could not see
so that they will go on forever not seeing it.
For those who demanded busywork instead of dreaming
I leave the boat I used to navigate my nightmares.
For the men who mugged me that night in Brooklyn,
knife at my throat, I leave the disappointment
of what my money could not change in their lives.
For those who hate me I leave their own stomach acid.
For my lovers I sing this small song:
However incompetent we were to find through
our small love the great love of Heaven, know that
it mattered and some small wound in the earth was healed.
For those who loved me I leave nothing because
they require nothing of me and never did and instead
send me on my way, my boat full of burning flowers.
For myself I ask forgiveness for my inability to see
the depth of the gift of my life and breath. So be it.
Copyright 2020 Doug Anderson