Death is the Pits in America
My mom wanted to die
in a sleeping bag under the stars
I was too cowardly to break the rules
But I wish I could have said goodbye
to her there
instead of the stretcher lost
in a sea of fire fighters, EMTs, police officers
-strapped to the gurney
-or a dead image sent by iPad
of your eyes staring at me for the last time
Your body forced full of chemicals
to deaden your thoughts
crush them beneath
the concrete
of this modern, medieval thinking
The stink of ammonia
and beeping of machines
the strangers who ignore you
like an overlooked water spill on a counter
or a half full teacup sized wastebin
the TV and cell phones
blaring all the collective anxiety
of money and government
Far from the warm embrace
of Mother Earth and
the sweetest poetry
of nature’s music.
Here’s a giant bill
You can’t afford
for All The Things you
didn’t want done
Please don’t call the police
on me
just let me die
and wake up
in the sounds of cranes
flying North
12 thoughts on "Death is the Pits in America"
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Poignant and Powerful.
Thanks. Inspired by a few off hand comments in this morning’s conversation with my beautiful friend who’s 88. She is the one who said “Death is the Pits in America” and “please don’t call the police on me-just let me die”
She’s a wonderful poet herself but she won’t touch computers for poetry! She’s a dear.
❤
🥰
So stirring, and so full of truth 💛
Sadly. Yes. It was also inspired by the excruciating loss of my mother.
I’m sorry for your loss. I also think this is a moving and powerful poem.
Thank you Shaun, it was four years ago. I think I’m finally safe enough to work through the feelings.
Wendell Berry has a classic
short story about this.
I’m sorry for your loss
and hope that you find
Peace in knowing you
did your best
Thank you, Jim! With Covid at that time making families and hospitals even more extreme, I suppose I did. It’s not haunting me as much anymore.
Thank you for saying what is both difficult and necessary.
Your loss was so difficult (how could it have been easy?) – I’m glad you’re getting your heart and head around it in these words.
Thank you for sharing your gifts.
I miss your mother, though I didn’t get to know her.
Love this poem. Love you.
You are so fine at all your crafts!
Awww, thank you Tabby! I love that you miss my mother too, though you never met her. What a beautiful heart felt thing to say.
You’re so special, Tabby.