When I End

When I end
I hope you, my friends,
will stop a second
and see my closed eyes
for what they are on that day — 

precious stones returned to their beds
under the thin cover
of my eyelids
in order to keep the earth
in balance.  

I hope
no one 
weeps at not ever 
seeing them again — living
requires us 
to move on
from each moment 
regardless
of its importance — 

but if they must weep,
let it be the right kind of mourning,
the kind that doesn’t 
bog us dead down, 
leaving us soggy in the ground
before we get even a day 
to understand
where we are. 

Don’t weep.  Let me be;
do the right thing, 
at least at first.

Don’t wonder aloud, for my sake,
about what happened
or how I finally slipped aside

after that last unbearable moment
of storm —

enough.  
Enough.  

Let me pass and don’t worry
about what it means. When I end
it shouldn’t be a recipe for self-annihilation.

Grief, acceptance;  the push and pull
of a shoving match 
between brothers.
It’s barely news at this point 
to say it too will pass. When I end,
when you are grieving for me,
angry with me, sad for me and for yourself,

remember that this, too, shall pass.

Advertisements

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

3 responses to “When I End

%d bloggers like this: