The Enigma of Posterity
I’m still confounded by the pits and falls of death,
but more so, and more often, by the dark twists
and light tricks of life. Both remain an enigma –
From one minute to the next death can empty
loved ones of everything but bones, and when
God called you back home, back to your beginning,
Back to enlightenment, on that day you were
forever lost to me. All that you knew was lost.
Mists and dust. Forever. You never talked of yourself,
Of memories, loss, joy and desire. Just not done.
So I resolve to preserve my thoughts, my days,
wishes, joys, my woes, my irritable, contrary ways.
To write of smiles stretched broad as moonbeams,
my soul alight by words that play and come alive
in poetry, the scent of frost, the taste of summer,
And I resolve them to my pen, written of my hand
for anyone who wishes to know me when I’m gone.
I resolve that you may read of my thoughts, to learn,
To know me when I’m gone, if you wish, as I wish
I knew more of you now. I resolve that you may
know me as well and deeply as my days were long.
Poetic Bloomings Prompt #88, I Hereby Resolve