I thought of death
As I lay dying,
Trying desperately
To cling to her.
That
vibrant
ray
of new hope:
emerging
then
fading.
In: the darkness.
All shelters over;
all goodbyes unsaid.
Out: dawn, light.
Sprinkles of sand.
Fragments of snow.
Each hour is tedious,
Until you know
it’s your last…
A kaleidoscopic flash
slides from an
ancient projector
flashing
inside
your retinas.
The moment’s
magic, never to
be seen again
by this
particular lifeform,
this ‘one,’
this part of
brahman
again.
A passive act.
Fundamental
and tragic.
Valiant effort;
bygone days;
bygone ways.
Each
fragmentary
being
has a pākata
of these.
They are the shape
of our memories.
Our dwindling
moments.
…
Then, hine-nui-te-pō
comes; she swims
from the darkness
to consume this
fragment:
now is
the hour.
…
One
gasp
remains.
One
final
breath.
my last,
dying,
seconds.
All options
exhausted.
We
finally
cease.
Our emotions:
we die as if
they’re true.
We relinquish them
And are born anew.
Amanda Riddell
September 2024
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