The Short Straw

Life is too short. Too short, they say. 
This pressure to be so present, 
It won’t be long
Before he’s taken away. 
I’ve known deep down 
Just like I felt with George.
My friend who died before turning 25.

It scares me who my body decides is precious  
This sixth sense 
Perhaps it’s no power of mine 
Only a soft knowing by them
That unfolds through their eyes
In telling peaceful perspective
Attracting me like a mayfly to the damp dawn,
I flutter above their calm, cool waters
Silently apprehending the splash and struggle
Yet I keep dipping 
Diving, daring myself in
And now, floating, half soaked on the surface
I wonder
‘What should I do with my gift?’
These precious days granted to some
Taken away from many
Beings briefly weighted to earth
Who pulled the short straw
And if grief is an art to be practiced like this
A heart pulled, squeezed, torn, a twist for a kiss with death
Then distancing myself goes against every grain of my veins 
My skin breathes and yearns
Attracted to deeper understanding. 

Shining, he cinders a knowing smile
Two voids apart for only a short while
We’re all one after all
Rise and fall, rise and fall
I’ll keep our secrets woven into this tapestry 
And just like the vibrations of the gong
Dissolving, I’ll join your cool calm waters
I know it won’t be long.