Ghosts of past deaths
crowd my consciousness as I
face yet another loss, a slipping away
of another friend and brother.
Each time we face the penumbra of
dying, surreal ghosts rise up to remind us of
other moments, déjà vu’s, other losses
we’ve already endured.
Each death rolls into the previous one,
each face starts to resemble all the other
dying faces, eyes gazing beyond this world
into another dimension, invisible to us
locked out on this side of the veil.
Each passing shakes me into acknowledgement of
my own mortality, feeds my own fear of leaving a
mess behind for others to clear up, a fear that I
will not accomplish what I came here for
though I am not quite sure yet just what that is.
Death brings me face to face with the
pitiless passage of time, and the inexorable
speed with which it bears down on us.
Thankfully, we remain ignorant of our own demise,
shrouded in a mystery best left in peace.