Shelf Life

Like a physical exam,
We open our grocery bag,
Place our refrigerated goods on shelves,
Our Frozen items in the freezer,
Our misc. canned and packaged items in a cupboard,
Knowing there’s only a limited amount of time
For the shelf life of your day’s purchase.

The doctor reminds us that the anatomy
Is impermanent,
An ephemeral journey
Whose shelf life reminds us
That transience is a part of life’s beauty.

We are reminded that the eyes capture fleeting moments,
Giving stimulation to the soul,
And applying the impressions onto
The mind’s canvas of memories.

One’s ears are with a lasting sojourn for most,
Allowing vibrations like layers of frost on a refrigerator’s shelf,
Arresting hands that craft,
Touch,
Hold,
Sculptured appendages of reality
Inevitably leaving traces in their movement’s wake.

The feet are examined for longevity’s limit
As blisters of age
Hasten care.

And oh,
How we cater to our skin,
Like our often carefully wrapped fresh-cut protein,
Whether from four-legged beasts,
Feathered foul,
Or the golden encasement
Of many a food source of the deep.

Our skin usually has an extended shelf life,
Albeit etched with the lines of experience’s toll,
While still maintaining a protective barrier,
A map not unlike
The wrinkled crystalline map
A frozen food item may share.

A check of the bones,
The framework of one’s existence,
Supporting and enduring
With its silent sentinels of strength
Giving special attention to the heart,
One’s rhythmic life pulse,
That relentless drum that knows well
The quiet
And the thundering
Reminder it can
Give to the testament of time’s passage.

For…

Just as one is concerned with food’s expiration date,
So too, we remind ourselves that the heart is mankind’s lifeline

Circulating longevity’s irrigation to all of a human’s shelf-life realities.