Who will know when i die?

[judih]

i'll be sitting in my study
writing haiku
who will know when i die?

kibbutz gardeners shuffling outside my window
intent on finding stray pecans
who will know when i die?

birds will fly through breezes
every hour a different song
who will know when i die?

no one will call or come to visit
each alone in their daily grind
who will know when i die?

my dusty corpse will feed the flies
my computer's poem barely formed
who will know when i die?


judih
november 18, 2010

[Doreen Peri]

Stunning poetry. Fits my mood perfectly. I was asking myself the same question just this morning.

I love format, the simplicity, the unfortunate depressing message.

And I absolutely LOVE your voice. You have a very beautiful voice.

Believe me, I'll know. And I'll miss you like I'd miss a sister and grieve for years.

Please don't go before me, OK? I don't want to have to experience that.

[judih]

if i die, you won't know
.
.
but i won't!

clinking glasses of water with ya!

[Michael]

j., being the sociopolitical amimule that I am, I can’t help thinking that no Palestinian will know and, who knows, that may be the cause. (Hey, you started the depression, not me). That, by the way, was not an ad homonym attack on the Palestinian people.

The question is a valid one, of course, for who knows when any of us dies?

There’s the simplistic answer that our close relatives will begin to miss us after a while, but who is the “who” in this case? How can the world miss one out of seven billion people?

I’m not Jesus of Nazareth,
nailed to a tree,
bleeding to death.
Dead.

I’m not Joan Of Arc,
tied to a stake,
burning to death.
Dead.

I’m not Abraham Lincoln,
crushed into hate,
gun at his head.
Dead.

I’m not John F. Kennedy,
smiling at crowds,
rushed to a room.
Dead.

I’m not Dr. King,
challenging hate,
shot from above.
Dead.

I am who I am,
forced into life,
nothing to say.
Dead.

if i die, you won't know
.
.
but i won't!

I love the piece, j. I absolutely love hearing your voice for the first time.

However, in the area of just plain meaningfulness, too many people live for tomorrow, that pie in the sky. Your response touched a nerve for me.

Thanks for this, j.

To friendship,
Michael

[judih]

thanks, Michael.
Is that wonderful poem yours?
must be -
brilliant.

yeah, just one of those desultory walk-abouts looking out and seeing life happily proceeding without my egotistical interference. It's the best solution and ultimately a freeing one.

[one of those jerks]

You ask the best questions.
So Zen

All the while listening to your voice the question I was asking was:
Will I know when I die?

[judih]

ha! a superb sequel!

[WIREMAN]

who will know?
like the razor's edge
when larry darell
becomes enightened burning his books
on a tibetan mountain top
and realizes......"nothing really matters"
or does it?
who knows?
who cares?
yet when it comes to you....judih
i surely do
as always it's great to hear your wonderful voice
a treat....peace and love........

[Poetsden]

Very soothing voice and I like the poem...Teresa (a.k.a. Poetsden)

[judih]

thanks, Teresa. I'd forgotten about that particular moment in thought. i appreciate you bringing it back.

judih

[Artguy]

Wow you hit on the head with this one...
Signed anonymously dead

[judih]

dear anonymously dead - now we know
so, what's the word from the other side?

[Artguy]

There is nobody tending the light at the end of the tunnel...

[judih]

tunnel exists
diminishing light
bring reinforcements