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.