This poem was written when I was 16, following the death of Lee Fortin. He was my girlfriend's father- a fine man and loved by his community. He was 47.
Constants
What was it I saw?
A very old memory forms in my mind.
Big circles, flashing circles, at the museum.
Every...17?...13?...seconds a person dies.
The circles flash when the event happens,
over and over again.
How many times will that circle have flashed again before
I know the person for whom it blinks?
Across the room lies a man,
the circle has flashed for him.
A rich man,
without much money,
lies there, sleeping, it seems.
He is not in slumber,
but,
I often wonder,
do you dream when you're dead?
It sounds silly, but perhaps
the soul still dreams?
There is an incredible energy
in the room.
I feel it everywhere.
Love.
Love for this man, his wife
his 3 daughters,
his parents and siblings.
Sadness, emptiness.
Always you hear, how we take life for granted
and never is this more noticeable,
than here.
All your life a constant,
and then it is ripped away,
how can you patch a hole that big
in your heart?
Soon, the constants become variables.
Is that when death starts?
Life is a roller coaster ride.
And the same place we start
is where we end up.
The rises and falls of everyday life mirror the ride,
so inevitably, with the rise comes a fall,
and with the fall, a rise,
and it all balances out.
For how interesting could life be,
if we kept rising?
Hard to look at it that way,
with all these people here.
And now it is my turn,
to face this man,
whose life ended too soon,
and what can I say?
How should I feel now, staring at this man?
I feel almost...guilty...guilty that I
go on and that he does not, yet
if I was gone in his place,
just as many people would miss me.
Or would they? Will I be as blessed,
when my time comes, when my roller coaster comes back,
with people who love and miss me?
And I move past him, to the waiting
wife and daughters and siblings,
arms weak from hugging so many,
and eyes watery,
and hearts shattered as their constant is no more.
Whoever said, "time heals all wounds,"
has not been here.
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