Staring Absently Into Mirror

When I was about fourteen, I remember at times

Standing before bathroom mirror, staring

Intently, deep into my hazel eyes

Wondering what it would be like to be dead.

I thought perhaps if I looked far enough

I’d have some sense of future, tense

Enough my eyes would twitch, blink

Away all sense of self, learning absence

Of myself within this world, I’d know

Who I’d be or wouldn’t be without a body,

This form of flesh astonished by the irony

That death was nothing much to fear.

Little did I know the time would come

When working with the dying,

I’d fight off sleep and stay awake

To hold the hands as slowly they grew 

Cold as winter’s breath, only knowing

When dying they should not be alone.

At least a dozen times or more I’ve held

Those who slowly moved away,

Through that window toward Beyond.

And about twelve times I myself

Have nearly died, yet stayed within the lane.

One day I won’t look into mirror anymore,

Window open to the Blue Beyond,

Walk into Light that now seems veiled.

That day I pray I’ll make it Home, past

All kinds of permanence that now

I only imagine, absent mind’s imagination.