Tomorrow I will die.
Well, perhaps not tomorrow
or tomorrow after tomorrow
But for certain
I will die
On some tomorrow
How much longer behind this curtain?
Tomorrow I will lie
On my death bed
Reflecting over things
Never done
Never said
Enumerating regrets and requests
I never made . . . of myself
How much longer behind this curtain?
I’ve done what I should
Learned what I could
Tried to be “good”
But not always
I’ve pleased her
And him
And them
Well, not really.
I’ve never pleased me
What makes them so special?
How much longer behind this curtain?
How many careers
How many hobbies
How many starts and stops
Skips and hops
Just to land back here
Right here
How much longer behind this curtain?
Life is there, beyond the
Veil that hangs from my
Self-constructed ceiling
Life is there, waiting and mocking
Cajoling me
Urging me
Daring me to
Stop peeking
Stop peering
Stop avoiding . . . being
Tomorrow I will die
Or tomorrow’s tomorrow
But today
I will ball my fist
Snatch fear from the rod and
Even if it falls over me
Entangles me
Devours all of me
Today, I step out from behind this curtain.