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Notes for an Unwritten Poem

by Ken Sanes

I am mourning
for the end of youth
and the loss of self.
I am mourning
for the poem of life
I will never write
and for the love – and lives --
I will never give you.
I am mourning
for the moment
that won’t be savored,
the risks that won’t be taken,
and the lost evening
we will never spend together,
close by the fire.
And, as I am mourning,
I find myself wondering:
when other people
approach death
what do they regret?
What do they wish
they had said or done?
Or do they become
so focused on what is ahead --
and not ahead --
that the nothing before
is overshadowed
by the nothing after?
This is what
I find myself wondering
as I yearn for a life
lived with courage,
in which I will die
one death only, without regrets.
But mostly I am mourning
for the end of my self,
and for the riches of youth
that I can still feel
overflowing in my hands,
and for the poem inside
that will crumble into dust
and be carried away
at the moment of my passing.
Yes, I am mourning for loss
as I am lost to death,
without your presence;
I am losing myself,
with one death to go,
just one death only.

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