Thursday, January 9, 2014

Between states.

Nothing. No words will do.
You don't know what it's like to return to the specialist
and watch him shake his head, and say
let's try this new pill...Every new pill a delay
for the dreaded final word.

Your eyes are already off on that wall behind me
feeling left out; or feeling sorry for yourself, for what you thought you had

I want to tell you: I'm OK with death.

There, I said it. What's the fuss? We must go sometime. What about those young ones
who didn't even know death was waiting for them on that Sunday evening drive in the fog?

You tell me to fight, as though there is an enemy in front of me other than myself. I'm fighting, I want to yell back. Can't you see that I know when you touch me you think of me already gone and I know what you're thinking before you even know? I'm fighting to keep you close and trusting and giving in this insane state we are in.

Say nothing.

Just be alive for the both of us. Take me dancing. Better yet, take me away, where there will be so much to do and see that the distractions will be my cure. You can make this happen.

Can't you?


  1. live in the time we have...while yours is right in front of you, the reality is that it is for all of us...none of us knows the number of our maybe tomorrow for i choose to live while i can...

  2. In the last two weeks, we have had four deaths in our congregation. Most of them well-known people in our congregation (including a former minister). Not a good time. People are starting to feel general out of sorts. So I've been asked to help out a bit.

    I don't mind helping, but it does remind me of my own mortality.

    Dying is not so much about "if"; it's more "where" and "when." And as the eye-chart on the wall stays less and less in focus, I guess we wonder how "in focus" we are.

    I'd love to take you away roasria, to a field full of fresh snow, where the cross-country skiing in the sunshine is easy and relaxing on a warm day. You slide along casually, gently noting what happens around you — mostly rids and animals. Then you could come in for a good meal, and a leisurely sit before the crackling fireplace.

    Sigh! If only I could do that with you.

    Blessings and Bear hugs!

  3. Until I've been there, I don't know what to say. I love your words, though. As usual, you're able to move the feeling so forward that it seems as if I'm not reading, but experiencing.

  4. I'm searching for the disclaimer which tells me that this is pure fiction and not about you. It's very well written, Rosaria.. and I hope you are well.

  5. I too hope you are well ... I saw an excellent film earlier this week "The Book Thief" and was struck by this line, which I won't forget. A child had died in London during a WW2 bomb attack ... a narrator we never see, the phantom soul gatherer said ... Rudy's soul gently rolled into my arms. I would like to think its' that way.

  6. Dear Rosaria, I am also hoping that this beautiful piece, which has so much truth to it, is not real, and that you are well. You are so alive to your surroundings, and your feelings, and teach us so much.

  7. Thanks for you feedback and concerns: I'm doing well.

    1. I don't kno wwhat to say. I'm speechless, which is a good thing given the topic of your post. All I can hope for is that if/when that time arrives, that you go peacefully and painlessly.

      A big, heartfelt hug from London.

  8. I also was in shock when I read this. I hope you are well. It is a very though provoking piece.