Chan Pratt
for Harold & the whole Bahamas

we'll all be gone soon or too soon

something or other,
death-planted, death's planted
to take us away, put us away
at times, snatch us away

though we seem alive and well
functioning while the iron's red
we're dying, passing away
not tomorrow, leaving today

the miracle for me is that I'm still here
54 and breathing, when, so many,
over time, in so many places
had so much less time

here on earth, sprung from it
heaven helping as it does plants, trees
as it assists in photosynthesis
we, similarly,
earth and light combined

but things fall apart, molecules disintegrate
strong force which bonds
no longer strong, become weak

disease, decay, first our teeth,
the foods we eat, then all else follows

all along, signs, indications that
we belong as much to death
as we do to life, from life began

instead of nibbling
death finally opens its mouth,
great big fish that it is
and closes it, and we're stiff
on our backs in a box

should the dead be kissed
or should we already have said our good byes
accumulating every time we part

whoever knows which kiss goodbye
will be our last

should death though, its inevitability
cause us to live differently
do excellent work as long as we last
because with every work, with every act
we wave farewell

should every act therefore
not be a just act

be about beauty and about truth


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
11:03 a.m. 18.07.08