when my time comes

when my time comes

these days I rarely
have a prayer to say

but one in my
stumbling way

to whatever
listening gods


when my time comes
let me be as the trees

releasing browning leaves
letting them tumble

gently down

——————————————

Goodness. It’s been a while. Tonight for dVerse Meeting the Bar, Victoria Slotto has tempted us to write a spicy, erotic, or touchy-subject poem (death, religion, politics, hot-button issues) using metaphor and image to elaborate the point. Of course I chose to write about death, a touchy subject for some people, with a little religion thrown in for good measure.
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40 thoughts on “when my time comes

  1. Hi Nico.. and wonderful to see your here at the bar again.. yes without a religion… it's not a bad thing to be like the tree… love the sparseness of your words still giving a full picture.

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  2. Thanks M–I'm not sure what that says about us, that when given the choice to write about sex or death, we chose death. (Actually, you kind of blended a little of both in yours!)

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  3. Thanks Victoria–my own feeling is that the farther from nature our religion takes us, the farther from the truth it becomes. That letting go is a tough lesson to learn.

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