Sometimes I like to think about how the end will happen

Will I see it coming

Will I be saddened

Or will it be numbing

Maybe it’ll hit me when I’m on the corner

Waiting to cross the street

Maybe I’ll be looking the other way

As if I was oblivious to the whole thing

But I’m not

I think about it a lot

I start the weekend with the obituaries

I start with the local newspaper then go to the funeral home website

The digital pictures of all those faces stare back at me

Strangely enough, it’s not a fright

Some people’s “photo” is just a candlelight

Isn’t that what our lives are

A bundle of intricate cells but blown out haphazardly

Or like a blade of grass that doesn’t stand a chance against the lawnmower

It’s like Death has achieved mastery

I wish there was a way to make things slower

To push pause, to rewind for every person on the page or screen

For the pretty woman in the green

For the veteran

For the infant, for the mom, for the teacher, for the Mexican

But Death holds everyone in its jaws

So I do my best to cross the street with courage

To be kind and gracious in the midst of scourge

I’ll join the block photos of faces or candlelights

At some point

It doesn’t make sense

Maybe that’s the point

To enjoy today

Death is recompense – for something

Like a window lowering

I see it coming

But I’m gonna cross the street anyway