Cured by the Cold
So perfect, so still — did you die, little bird, or were you cured by the cold? . [ 1636 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Death’
Coda
My heartbeat, the wind in the trees, the sounds of the squirrels and birds, the sigh of traffic on Interstate 5, the ringing in my ears, the kettle on to boil, the flushing of the toilet, voices in the street — these, along with every whisper within and beyond, are the music of my life. They’re my silence, too. How easily, effortlessly, they will end. . [ 1634 ]
Pain and Fear
On one hand, there’s discomfort, which tells me something’s wrong, or isn’t fully healed. On the other, there’s fear the discomfort will grow worse, or won’t end. But fear is a self-fulfilling prophecy. What I fear is intensified and prolonged by my fear. If I fear long enough, I will fear until my death. And if my fear is the fear of death, I will die fearing that. In this […]
Free Ride
this life’s a child’s balloon / you never know / when she’ll let go . [ 1619 ]
Wise Old Child
Letting go the precious image of oneself — the habit, the mask, the careworn cloak — isn’t this the fear of death? And if it is, why not let go now and be completely free, like the wind that blows and snow that falls? In life and deed — why not be a wise old child? . [ 1609 ]
Solar Plexus
Ask the body — Is there a difference between the fear of pain, the fear of rejection, the fear of poverty, the fear of loss, the fear of death? . [ 1597 ]
Smoke
the wind scours the eaves and here’s the pipe my uncle smoked before he was killed in the war . [ 1551 ]
Roots and Bones
A terrible thought — to be buried with your guilt and pain. But glad there’s none in the grave — somehow you know it’s bad for the soil. Roots and bones — and now fall’s moving in. Wake up, friend! . [ 1545 ]
Skunk Detail
When I turned on the front step light at 4:30 this morning, the skunk seemed only mildly surprised. It wasn’t on the step, just a few feet beyond. It sniffed the air and peered at me through its thick glasses, then moved off into the darkness, toward the pine. Careful alert regard, mutual curiosity — I’ve known friendships to begin this way. Another way is the wondrous miracle of instant […]
A Dewy Understanding
A slow run, the last sliver of moon just rising, the streets quiet and calm. With the arrival of the summer heat, our former high temperatures are now the lows, even as the days, little by little, grow shorter, and the cloudless, starry nights, as if by their own magic, add unto themselves. The grass in front of the house has yielded again to clover. The bare feet rejoice in […]
William Michaelian 