On Death and Dying

I love riding the bus. I can sit back, relax, and watch the beautiful scenery of The Andes between Cuenca and Guayaquil.  In September, I rode the bus all the way to the coast to celebrate a friend’s birthday.  Journal in hand, the wheels of the bus quieting any other sounds, I wrote this poem. Originally, I thought it would be included in volume two of Seven Degrees of Wisdom but that turned out not to be.  Something else called to be written for the book which is why I can share this with you today.  The book will be out in December so you’ll have to wait to find out what I wrote!

Life is all of
death and dying

Fruit falls ripe
from the
tree
to smash on
the ground
beneath
split open
all that
goodness
leaking out
rotting
dying.
A feast for
the ants
and grubs.

Death comes
even before birth
the egg in
the nest
unprotected
for a moment
fertilized embryo
life unrealized
once again.

Children die
before parents
mothers abandon
the very
young.

Whether siblings
cousins
grandparents
friendseach having
their own
interests and
judgements
one goes in one
direction
the other moves
to the penthouse
mistress of all
she surveys of life
and movement
of pause and
death.

The frost on
the mountaintop
the chemical
spray on corn
crops
the harsh word
of criticism
freezing out
smothering
purposefully
rejecting
what is of
growth and
nurture.

Death surrounds us
absorbing light
offering less
distraction
along with
the possibility
of expansion
deep within
the soil of
winter’s
rot!

~Joss Burnel