You will be gone

You will be gone.
In all likely hood
there will not even be a street named after you
and even if there is, it too will crumble one day, the sign will break and no one will care.
Your cells will be in the soil
and the rain
perhaps the river of your life will be flowing through the veins of your descendants
but you, you will be gone
forgotten
beyond the knowledge of dirt and rain.
The curly hair of your beard will have rotted away.
No one will remember the way your hand moved in the air as you gestured
or the lilt of your voice,
the scowl you made after you bashed your thumb with a hammer
hopping on one foot in sympathy
then flicking your wrist.
No one will hear you sing your song again
You will never moan again, salaciously licking the creases of another body.
No one will hug you
or yell at you.
Your house will never fall apart again.
No one will knock on your door.
Soon, perhaps as soon as you blink your eye
you will be gone
melted back
into everything.

Some days the dance is beautiful
some days it is bitter sweet
or full of pain and being alive
somedays the dance of all of us is so full
reasons to fight and fling and move forward
things to push against
and celebrate
try

But some days the long dance
is just long
and for a few minuets you just want to sit down
and rest
but still the laundry needs to be hung.

All we all want
is to be seen
and loved
to connect

See me sunshine
see me leaves
hear me cicada far away in your tree
I am here
so full of longing still
so full of sadness too
for all that is alive
and all that is dying
all the hope that is not in me
or others
for our long dance of meaningless life