“Before we can find peace among nations, we have to find peace inside that small nation which is our own being.”
~BKS Iyengar
Despite the war waging in her bones,
She is at peace within her own being.
…
Hugging her au lait with both hands, tight
She wonders if she has the right
To be content at this “late stage,”
Knowing full well that she will not age.
Is happiness allowed to those
Whose end time everybody knows?
(Or at least assumes)
If she was proof, and proof she was
That death’s imminence really does
Inspire one to settle accounts
To create closure, and achieve what amounts
To a simple acceptance of this fact:
We all die.
Then be happy, she decides.
And she is.
So
She finds joy in every day that’s left.
Soothes those who feel bereft.
Pays her bills,
And writes her wills.
(Both living and otherwise)
In the here, in the now~
She kisses and hugs whenever inspired.
She drinks good wine, she naps when tired.
She tells her loved ones how she feels.
Enjoys, when possible, really good meals.
She takes her meds and walks every day.
Paints, reads, writes, and laughs and plays.
Because soon
Very soon,
She won’t be able to.
Because we all die,
And then begin anew.