If You Knew
by Ellen Bass
What if you knew you'd be the last
to touch someone?
If you were taking tickets, for example,
at the theater, tearing them,
giving back the ragged stubs,
you might take care to touch that palm,
brush your fingertips
along the life line's crease.
When a man pulls his wheeled suitcase
too slowly through the airport, when
the car in front of me doesn't signal,
when the clerk at the pharmacy
won't say Thank you, I don't remember
they're going to die.
A friend told me she'd been with her aunt.
They'd just had lunch and the waiter,
a young gay man with plum black eyes,
joked as he served the coffee, kissed
her aunt's powdered cheek when they left.
Then they walked half a block and her aunt
dropped dead on the sidewalk.
How close does the dragon's spume
have to come? How wide does the crack
in heaven have to split?
What would people look like
if we could see them as they are,
soaked in honey, stung and swollen,
reckless, pinned against time?
* * * *
And some words of wisdom from the incomparable Patti Smith:
This has been on my mind recently, thinking about my grandma and even my parents someday. But it could be anyone, really. If it was your last meeting, would you be happy with how you spent your time with them?
ReplyDeleteLoved the clip too. :-)
I get lost in myself pondering such things. I tend to not ponder them at inappropriate times, and then make a mental note to get deep with myself during nighttime while trying to sleep or during a commute time. These ponderings give me chills to think how we are all cosmically connected, and if I was the last person to touch someone, why?
ReplyDeleteAnother thing, like Erin's comment that I have been doing, is taking people in. Like REALLY observing them trying to remember everything about them. Like my grandmother. Or Mark, when I am mad. I try to observe why I love him so much, his movements and expressions touch, sight, taste and sound, and what will I remember when he is gone (should I live longer). Sometimes not taking the moments for granted will put me into a tailspin of deepness, trying to memorize each moment.
I miss you Ali! I love talking this stuff over with you and so miss that our meetings are so fleeting and we must get ALL the important things discussed, but we miss out on such conversations.
xoxo
Sorry, appropriate times.
ReplyDelete