We all die. But, most people don’t like to think about that, which I think is a mistake. I find it helpful to consider my own death from time to time. It reminds me I’m alive.
Poets help me to meditate on my own demise. A good poet will look death straight-on, and not flinch. She will probe and tease the subject, until she creates a poem that reveals, in all its stark reality, a truth that we will all face.
The one thing that certain poets have taught me: Death is not a blip. It’s forever. We exist, then suddenly we don’t. Religious thinking tends to see death as a New-York-second moment before everlasting life kicks into gear. That way of thinking can lead to madness, even for the most faithful.
Whatever you believe, for now, consider your own death–stay with the “blip.” See it for what it really is.
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