The voices of the dead
whisper,
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
And I’m inclined to believe them,
but only with the dead parts of me.
They point to scars
on my mind and by body
and say,
“You’ve had enough, Kid.
Why don’t you just admit
life has defeated you,
and lay down and die
like your father.”
There was a time
when I thought they were right.
That I
went to the grave for their council.
These days,
when I hear them at all,
I just smile
and keep right on going.
There are some sure things,
death and oblivion.
But I’ve done my time
with the demons of my memory.
I’m too old to say,
that I’m not going
to that other place,
but I’ve got a little time, yet.
I’m still alive,
and I bet if I
took my life
and threw it up to the sky
it would shatter like stars
on a clear summer night.
And I’d sit there
counting my memories.
I don’t heed those old voices.
There’s still a whisper in the wind,
asking me to keep searching
for something I don’t know yet.
Not sure if I’m going to find it,
or if I’ll run out of days instead.
But I’m not gonna fall
for the incessant call
of death and oblivion again.
DJR – 2023
