Like A River
The river of life flows my way.
I am filled with its waters as I pay the rent,
give the kids their allowance,
maybe next month a log jam will come my way
and I won’t feel so lucky or grateful.
Life’s that way.
But today I breathe,
I laugh the laughter of a child’s glee as I play tug of war with my dog
and I sing the Robin’s song of spring when the rays of sun remind me of better days ahead.
Then, like a stopped river, my neighbor Bruce gets a death sentence from his doctor,
Who would think
such a small organ,
cloistered deep within the body
would have the power to summon death so quickly.
Hospice on the way.
He counts the days of his life,
treasures what remains.
And I remember, I should look at life that way. Sing its praises
that-away, every day, come what may.
Still, I pause and feel the guilt of my gratitude that it isn’t me.
So grateful God that it isn’t me who must say goodbye so soon
with so many moments left to treasure,
to no longer feel a warm embrace or have a sweet kiss rest upon my lips.
I am not ready, to have the joys of my life ended, ended, ended, so soon.