Fear of Death

Fear of losing
what is not mine,
but I take to be mine.
Losing, family, losing friends.
But what is the loss?

Fear of death is to deny the continuation of life,
the impermanent, ever-changing circle
through which we dance.
Death is all around us and within us.
Death is in these logs
that thus provide heat and light.
Death is in the falling autumn leaves,
the compost smell of rotting vegetation
that in the closing down and dying
is preparing for a new spring.
Death is in me, created anew
by the characteristics of my mother,
the ideals and beliefs passed on from my ancestors.
Death is in the greying hair and wrinkling skin
that brings with it a different perspective on life,
acceptance, peacefulness and quiet joy.

Fear of death is to deny the continuation of life,
to try and keep in one's hand
the grains of sand trickling through the fingers,
to try and contain the ever-flowing
mass of water that gurgles on its way,
to try and capture a scene of loveliness
that the new moon displays
on a clear, frost-filled night.
To let go
instead of holding on,
to let them trickle, gurgle and float on by,
is freedom,
is an acceptance of the continuation of life.
Is life.

© 18 November 2012