Two days ago, I read a most affecting poem, Cento Between the Ending and the End, by poet Cameron Awkward-Rich. The poem, highlighted on Poem-a-Day, begins with “Sometimes you don’t die/when you’re supposed to/& now I have a choice/repair a world or build/a new one inside my body.”
That struck me deeply because it so closely describes my last four years. In the aftermath of my death(s) and rebirth(s), I am writing. Writing and building new worlds within and without.
Thanks for coming along for the ride.
Sometimes you don’t stay dead
when you die. Instead, you come back
shaking, cold, blinded by the light of living.
Voices echo in empty rooms at your return.
Still death lingers in the weighted slack
of your neck, the limbs asprawl in your lover’s arms.
He carried you from death’s door to this
now of color and sound. At your first breath,
he holds you as if seeing world’s end,
his voice echoing louder than the rest.