By Shawnelle Martineaux
To fear life is a funny thing
And though grim may its tidings be
We hope for loves we sow in spring
And then, come winter, bend the knee.
So free is he who can not fear
He holds all things he wants at once
He’ll let go of his burden here
Devotee of old limerance.
His smile shall wane and wax and fall
His empty nest, no wherewithal
Investments made a day too late
He’s no friends left to celebrate.
I wish I could believe in life
Or even if
Or maybe some
I wish I’d re-begin in spite
To greet you with my good news won.
But birthdays I will always fear
And holy days fill me with fright.
To have another I hold dear
Will always be my sole respite.
I want, I wonder, are my home.
“I wish,” will always be my own.
I need to need you. I cannot.
You’re gone from me, but I am not.
Our memories are tug o’ war
And I’m the rope
And you’re the score.
Nobody really wins. I’m sure.
It’s best to live, but hope?
No more.
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For my Dex and my Shells, who will own my bar anniversary and birthday forever, despite my better efforts to the contrary. Rest in peace, or whatever it is dead people do when they’re still alive in our heads.
Her Caribbean Legal Musings 