I was just thinking about death the other day and came up with this rather simple poem

of course one day the game will be over
I will die like a silent nun or a sage
With people surrounding me and mourning
my loss and I will still listen to them
with my other sense
and smile contentedly on what I did to change the world
but then of course, I might as well
die like a nobody in a strange land
simply poisoned by a forest snake and the tribes
will host an open funeral not knowing who I am
or what I was doing in the deep woods.

I can also dissociate while I die
A free fall from the sky while flying or
on a parachute or a plane crash
Or maybe simply I’ll prefer to sail away
on a full moon night and find myself alone
in the middle of the seas, when suddenly my boat
will capsize to drown or wash me away
and I’ll never be found again, like a true poet

or I might just get killed by a fundamentalist
if I write something too radical, and my
arms and chest will bleed and people
will swarm around me and carry me along
like a dead queen on a funeral procession
or I can simply die alone inside a cottage
by the sea, in a dark deep island
where people will discover that I existed
before ants and rats made a feast of me and my books

I might die from a plain and boring illness
And my children and grandchildren
will kiss me profusely until my last breath
or I might simply die young and beautiful
and my man will hold me in his arms
kiss me one last time and
promise me endlessly that in love and in death
we are finally one.

One thing is for sure, no matter how I die, it’ll be
something of an adventure.