Reflection Upon Dying - A Poem by James Bolner, Sr.



Reflection Upon Dying

Years slip, rain, leaves.
  Is it love that stays, to grow and pose
  Its questions?

Hands, open, show no weapon,
  Sign the frontier
  Of our vulnerable selves.

Deep in the heart there is passion and, yes, pain.
  Memory, striving for a life of its own,
  Seeks to brand the transient heart.

(You can see: I'm trying to be like Emily:
  Lean and learned, but my sentences do not curve
  To meet the rhyme.)

How will we know the end?
  Will they come, white coats
  With badges: the end has come?

Will the hired attendants,
  Feel no real remorse beyond
  The official records of remorse crafted,
  Upon recyclable paper with disposable pens?


James Bolner, Sr.
Baton Rouge, LA