It’s a lonesome time to be born
and a desolate time to die.
The most momentous breaths we ever take are the first ones
The most momentous breaths we ever take are the first ones
and the last ones—
intentionally authorized by encircling arms and hands,
authenticated with unrestrained caresses and kisses,
sanctioned with irrepressible sighs and sobs.
sanctioned with irrepressible sighs and sobs.
When these treasured moments are lost,
abandoned to a forsaken
void,
there are no do-overs.
A baby slips into this world
with no community to witness the wonder.
with no community to witness the wonder.
Has he been born?
A beloved elder passes from this world
with no community to lament the loss.
A beloved elder passes from this world
with no community to lament the loss.
Has she died?
Could we not call a moratorium on our mortal-ness—
temporarily suspend all arrivals and departures
until a forthcoming time
when sacraments of hello
and goodbye may again be shared?
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