To my friends and loved ones who fear dying alone

To my friends and loved ones who fear dying alone

A Poem by Marie Anzalone
"

don't read if you whine about long poems; this one needed to be written for me, nobody else.

"

 

“Death arrives among all that sound like a shoe with no foot in it/ like a suit with no man in it/ comes and knocks/ using a ring with no stone in it/ with no finger in it/ comes and shouts with no mouth/ with no tongue/ with no throat. Nevertheless its steps can be heard and its clothing makes a hushed sound/ like a tree.”

 

Pablo Neruda, “Only Death”

 

I.

Beneath forced smiles, the fear;

the only experience that binds a prince

in Spain to a homeless mother

in Chicago- the only universal

presence we all bow before. The

last unknown, the question unspoken

but there in every Be well, I love

you. We pretend to unsee, to not

see, so many things today:

 

quiet orders for fleets

of refrigerated trucks in New York,

so many weddings, postponed.

Thousands of boxes of old photographs

unopened since 1981, dusted and carried

to dinner tables everywhere. Rituals:

I will say I love you every night

until this is over; I will count to

5 before I lose my patience with you.

 

The fear of too many things still

left to do; too many apologies

unspoken; too much that was said

but not from the heart. Too much

heart, not acted upon. Alone, my

loved ones whisper, silent treatises

to be heard, seen, counted.

Empathy now for every refugee, every

enemy of state; who died without

a line in history’s saddest anthologies.

 

II.

But you are never, alone. Oh my

loves, not alone. The Buddha holds

the hand in the poorest beggar’s

final moments; the Earth Mother

wipes tears from the loneliest faces.

 

You are stardust, the light of Polaris

radiates from your hair; You are

electrons, and every word you ever

spoke was charged with the power

of universal thought, language, poetry;

You are the witness, and every work

of art you ever appreciated, gave life

to the artist; You are the chronicler,

and every living thing you ever smiled

at, was observed and made real, by you.

 

Every floor you swept, a small act

of order against chaos; Every heart

you broke, a testament to limitation.

You are time, and the winds flow

between your fingers like sand, like

promises. You are life, and life’s

energy is not lost, it is transformed,

transmuted- there will come a day

 

when your essence becomes the ocean,

as once, the essence of the ocean,

came alive, in you. You are every

feeling you cultivated to bear fruit;

you are anger, you are joy, you are

wonder, you are envy, you are lust.

You are love, you are love, you are love.

 

III.

Tell your story in your own words, now-

we are listening; the world is pausing

to hear. Write your recipes; record

advice for your sons; tell your mother

your secrets; tell your best friend,

you’ve loved her since the first day

you knew her. Draw your memories;

stab fear in its heart with the fire in yours.

Tell your worst enemy to go to hell.

Tell Death, it can have only so much,

of you.

 

Propose marriage now to whoever

or whatever, makes you tremble

in awe of your unworthiness. Don’t

wait. You are not alone; never alone,

you have the memory of every joke

you shared, every game you lost,

every soul you touched. You are

10,000 generations of starlight converging

on the shore of a small lake; you

are the aurora borealis and you are

the scale on a butterfly’s wing. You

are wanted, you are paragraphs in so many

beautiful and terrible stories.

You are loved, you are loved.

You are loved.

© 2020 Marie Anzalone


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Featured Review

' .. you are the scale on a butterfly’s wing. - You are wanted, you are paragraphs in so many beautiful and terrible stories. - You are loved, you are loved. - You are loved.'

Oh my goodness, how can one read your words and not be.. touched to the absolute core. You've always written from the heart, R., always with determination and dignity. Especially in the past few years when your heart, mind and caring has worked miracles of ways one rarely if ever comes across. If I say more, will be far, far too much,.. However, your writing, your emotions are so finely set.. everyone with an iota of intelligence, insight and humanity should read and read this

You've opened your arms and welcomed every kind of achievement, need, emotion, anguish and more . You've given respect and dignity to whoever exists, lives, is.

Posted 3 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

' .. you are the scale on a butterfly’s wing. - You are wanted, you are paragraphs in so many beautiful and terrible stories. - You are loved, you are loved. - You are loved.'

Oh my goodness, how can one read your words and not be.. touched to the absolute core. You've always written from the heart, R., always with determination and dignity. Especially in the past few years when your heart, mind and caring has worked miracles of ways one rarely if ever comes across. If I say more, will be far, far too much,.. However, your writing, your emotions are so finely set.. everyone with an iota of intelligence, insight and humanity should read and read this

You've opened your arms and welcomed every kind of achievement, need, emotion, anguish and more . You've given respect and dignity to whoever exists, lives, is.

Posted 3 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on March 29, 2020
Last Updated on March 29, 2020

Author

Marie Anzalone
Marie Anzalone

Xecaracoj, Quetzaltenango, Guatemala



About
Bilingual (English and Spanish) poet, essayist, novelist, and technical writer working in Central America. "A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start argume.. more..

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