A Study

I pace back and forth.

This doesn't belong to her anymore,

all of her things stopped

belonging to her.

Is that what it means?

When she curled up on the hospice bed

and decided enough.

Things stopped belonging to her. 

So I sit on the sofa she read the paper on

and I take naps

in her bed

with her pillows

that don't belong to her anymore.

How not to make death a cliche?

It happens all the time.

In calculating this constant loss the world suffers

I decided it meant a few things,

your body goes useless and with it all your senses,

and your things become some else's.

That's all thats been collected

as clear cutting fact.

Where do we go?

And when will everyone realize

that we have to leave? We have to change.

It's the burden I notice now above all else,

stuck with my senses and frustrated at

my frustration with them.

I want to praise my eyes and my fingers

for there work

but with such inevitable losses

how do we keep from cursing what keeps us here.

It may sound pessimistic

but we have heard 

we are all dying, since yesterday and the day before.

I only wish it made every moment precious

instead I find even my love stagnant,

waiting

when there is so little time. 

So I pace forth

under life and love,

the impatience screams. 

Taking a calm breath will

not crete grace,

not when 

you are carrying

a loss that makes your shoulders weigh uneven

with gratefulness

and absolute despair. 

Such imbalance, and contradiction. It touches everything.

After studying death

I have no conclusion.