Archive 08/28/09 - (1)

   

"I Wish You Well"

                                                                  

The more completely you withdrew from the world,

The more frequently you'd catch yourself mouthing a mantra:

"I wish you well. I wish you well. I wish you well."

 

To whom you were speaking, addressing your "wish"es,

You weren't quite certain.

Indeed, even your words found the enigma tantalizingly baffling.

 

One a.m., when you stepped, naked, into a full-length mirror

(A dozen of them covered every wall of your bathroom),

You never came back out, simply vanished,

 

Realizing, then, that it was you alone, only you,

To whom you'd been repeatedly saying, "I wish you well,"

As if, all along, you'd known the truth of your mortality,

 

The extent of your earthly life sentence,

Known that protecting your equanimity, in the face of death,

Required great detachment, a vast letting-go of your ego,

 

Which you believed could only be achieved

By jettisoning all emotional ties to your viable being,

Sacrificing your physical constituents to nonexistence.

 

As you passed through that nine-foot-tall panel of one-way glass,

The last thing the tub, basin, shower stall, and toilet heard

Was "I wish you well...wish you well...you well...well."

 

 

 

 

                                               

 

08/28/09 - (1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 
   
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