Member Poem

The line on a heart monitor is like a sideways lightning bolt.
Unlike a lightning bolt is strikes the same place over and over until it stops.
The flatline is the line that divides us, the line we do not cross, until we do.
It is the first and last thing we do.
There’s a lot of beauty in between, that’s the stuff that matters.
The green of the crest of a hill, the blue of the mid-morning sky, the yellow in the center of a daisy.

Death can be beautiful too, but only if it’s not you doing the dying.
There’s a peacefulness in the hush and whisper of cemeteries, just off the beaten path.
They’re reminders of our fathers and mothers and all the fathers and mothers before them.
They exist for the living.
I do not want to be buried.
I want to become ash and float on the wind one last time white my spirit becomes one with the universe.
Without borders, without boundaries, we cross that line and enter a world without lines.
The end is a beginning.