"A Lesson from the Dying," A Poetry Post

For most of your life you command your own pace.

When you age,

your pace is assisted.

You may plan and attend lavish parties,

and be the belle or the beau of the ball.

When you age,

you don't get that attention

at all.

You may gather a wardrobe that 

cascades across halls and falls 

off its racks with suits and hats and 

heels and chemises and belts.

It's just as well.

You may never wear them.

Collect all your favorite records and movies;

you may never hear them. 

What you will remember 

when the embers of life start to fade

is the family you made.

Whether or not you were good to your daughter and

fair to your son.

Whether or not your marriage

could have been saved.

Whether or not you were honest and just 

or a scoundrel.

What you could do for your children

before your mind betrays you and makes you a

child again. 

Thus you should live like a titan in its simplest sense,

avoiding the drivel of daily ridiculousness and 

focusing in on the kin;

binding together the legacy of your best self in thick cords;

getting forgiveness for your wrongs;

and standing firmly and resolutely on your rights. 

Give the family you love more days than nights.

And then when you leave them,

resigned forever to a world where you no longer see them,

they will see you shining in their lives

like an eternal sun.

-T. D. James-Moss