This past semester, I had been apart of a poetry class and during that time, I have come to realize the fact that I am quite interested in poetry writing. What I noticed was that it made for a kind of gateway to the type of inspiration that also leads in my own artwork. It is also not limited to what many may see as the superficial notion of what poetry is. It is not stuffy, or cheesy, or all about the rhymes, but it is instead a beautiful art of writing that can still be shared in a more modern approach (one being slam poetry). Since I saw this form of writing as a connection to art I feel as though it is appropriate for me to also share this on my blog. At times, it is an inspiration for my art, a form of therapy and a wonderful way to pass the time. I will continue to write poems and possibly even post a few. For this particular post, I would like to share my most recent poem “On That Day.”
On That Day
I cannot think of the weather. It will be
nice, I guess, preferably in the spring.
I say this as if I have a choice, but let’s say
I do. I would find it the most comforting
if I died in my sleep, but not alone—
in my husband’s arms.
Cliché — maybe;
Morbid — definitely.
But it’s what I want.
I guess, in a way, considering that I don’t care
about much else on the day I die, that’s what I
want out of life—Happiness, comfort, and
protection. In a way, I had lost that when I had
lost God; I figured it was time for me to be on
my own. He couldn’t really do much for me
Neither could my family, or at least, in the sense
of protection. Sure, they’ve been there and I
want them at my funeral, but at the same time,
I don’t. I would much rather my family be at
my niece’s graduation or somewhere together—
away from the pain and grief
My husband, the strong man he is, will be able
to handle it and hold me close all the while
accepting the nature of things. I don’t want to
be mourned, or forgotten, or even made a huge
I just want to be at peace for once;
I think that will be the only day I can achieve that
The day I die.