A label On a Box


It all becomes background, white
noise filling distracted ears; the
low rumble hum of life…something
just on the other side of seeing–just
out of reach–like smiles on WWII
concentration camp prisoners; ribs
bones, teeth, black and white, naked
barbed wire…
it all becomes background
livable forgettable…old news
I think about this body, this breathing
living beating eating crapping sleeping
ultimately closing eyes and
dying thing…and it is, what? A
vehicle to get me from birth
to death…a means to my end, a
label on a box in a building where
people mourn all
of their yesterday’s.
I want to know feel
love live learn that
I am not my yesterday…that I
am my today,
my now,
this moment
rolling onward toward this moment and
this one and this one and…
I want and will, I need and do; I
listen deep into the background to
find what I have forgotten, what
has become the low rumble hum
of living
and through tears and laughter
joy and pain, confusion and
I hear

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