wasn't she


i was thinking about wasn't she   the phrase

as in   wasn't she wonderful   

or   wasn't he a force to be reckoned with   phrases


of remembrance or summation   and i was thinking

that someday i'll be a wasn't she

i'm not being morbid   we all go from here to there   


from now to then   from alive to not alive   surely 

each of us will be remembered with a  

wasn't she or wasn't he   and in a way alive again   if briefly   


i don't know what i think of that   my religious friends 

already envision themselves in heaven   

among friends   perhaps being remembered isn’t so important   


but for me   for us   who are less sure   it is a vision of a sort

that non-existence is not quite so definitively final 





Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2020-02-16 at 16:08

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Still final, just delayed. My father's like that. He's dead, but not yet gone. When those of us who knew him, the ones who could say, "Wasn't he...," have died, then my father will be completely gone.

Thoughtful, wry, wise, and well made.