Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Doug Anderson: Living Will


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

Photograph by Doug Anderson

6 comments on “Doug Anderson: Living Will

  1. Diane Meader
    May 10, 2020

    This is a wonderful poem, I love it, and will keep a copy to read when I need it.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. granolaho
    May 7, 2020

    Thoughtful and touching, Mr. Anderson. I like it very much.

    Like

  3. Joe Ahearn
    May 7, 2020

    Terrific poem, Doug! I love it.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. kennethrosenpoet
    May 7, 2020

    Wow! Doug, that was wonderful. I shall rise from my sofa now, and make myself a second cup of golden, one quarter of a teaspoon of generic instant, plus lots of other good stuff–little pillow cases for the brain’s old age–so with luck I can make it through the day under a full teaspoon, or i.e., under a full cup. What’s dubious are those large dollops of chocolate, powder, peanut butter, and honey, which fills the bottom of my mug with a happily sinister, geriatric Snickers Bar. Cheers, Ken Rosen

    Liked by 1 person

    • kennethrosenpoet
      May 7, 2020

      Damn. Happens all the time. Talk to myself while I write and think I’ve written something. That was supposed to be “golden coffee” KR

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Barbara Huntington
    May 7, 2020

    Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

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This entry was posted on May 7, 2020 by in Health and Nutrition, Opinion Leaders, Poetry and tagged , .

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