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Summer of Poetry: With a Bonus Haiku


We are never more
alive than when embracing
our grand finale.

***

My death sentence came
in the exam room--
brief, with apologies
and a note of sorrow
in the directive
to put my affairs in order.
But in the upside-down of
my mind,
there was no order:
only lists of regrets
that needed to be unwritten.
I refused to race toward
the end of my tomorrows
and reluctantly greet Death
at the finish line.
No.
I ran to the warmth of each day,
telling strangers they were beautiful,
loving
embracing
laughing.
I learned to dance for joy
with my failing body.
And in those last few months,
I lived

more than those I left behind
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