The Miracle of Death

A life is like the work of the long-distance runner:

The rhythm conforms to the requirements of the journey.

Starting, the spirit and legs are passionate, but controlled.

Don’t test yourself on speed, for the race against yourself

Is won on timing, stamina, breathing, a pace one can sustain.

The reward comes in the middle with the legendary second wind,

Where you feel comfortable pumping, like the piston rod of an engine,

And your brain and heart and legs are one, singing out the cheers

For your power to keep this up for as long as it takes.

Near the end, when we know the finish is coming, we accelerate.

The greatest effort comes now, since we know that soon we will

Cross the line and no further effort will be effective,

Because death will come like a spring rain, sacred but ordinary,

The special time and place when all questions are answered.

Why fear death as some dark mystery that follows life?

Why should after-life be any different from before life?

Were we happy before but made to forget that past so that

We could embrace the present, join the waves pounding

The shore when we had no choice, and deciding when we did.

Thus, the sum of our decisions brought us here,

And now I step off the ship and onto the plank that takes

Me across a line that is like childbirth, only in reverse.