Value of life, the form asks, a
tiny rectangle awaiting an answer.
No unit of measure. Should it be
a number, a word, a symbol?
The world is uneven, a map
creased. Value shifts with power.
How will you be remembered
when you die? How will you die?
How will you be treated when
you live? How will you live?
Perhaps, this wasn’t geopolitics,
Wasn’t economics. How will
you be loved when you love?
How will you love? Perhaps
it wasn’t a question. Just enter –
Yes. Just put – an exclamation
mark! I leave my body to stare
at my face. Just ask – to whom?
Just ask – whose? That’s just
denial though. Perhaps this is
a trick. The rectangle is an exit
door. I tap on it, whisper. I am
angry now. How dare they?
I darken the box with a furious
pen. It rips a hole in the middle.
I lift it to the light. Through the
little tear, I can see the endless
sky. The edge of the universe.
**
#Napowrimo #Glopowrimo
#WriteRight
#April2024 8/30
THOUGHT PURGE 
Love the conceit of this poem, and the way it ends is great.
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Thanks, Mark.
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The closing lines of this poem are absolutely perfect……..that glimpse of the universe is what keeps me sane, I think, knowing there is some Cosmic Intelligence that possibly will heal the earth we are destroying once we get out of the way.
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Thanks Sherry.
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Thought-provoking, such impossible questions, and especially this line:
“I leave my body to stare
at my face.”
which made me think of out of body experiences and how odd they must be 🙂
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Thank you 🙂
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“I can see the endless
sky. The edge of the universe.”
Through the little tear (the valley where I live and the limits of my vision and my time on this planet and my abilities, I saw just that, today, and it was infinite.
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Thanks Martha… if we comprehend that infinity and our infinitesimal transience, maybe we will treat all life and creatures as absolutely equal and the world will become a bearable place.
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💚
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