Legacy of Life
As I mentioned the other day, I am compiling a collection of humanist and atheist poems called Filling the Void. I am editing it at the moment, and there are some grea tpieces in there; varied and poignant. [caption id="attachment_6829" align="alignright" width="181"] Freeimages.com / Candice Courtney[/caption] Anyway, I came to one of my own, probably bumbling, pieces. This is a sort of slam poem, to be read out loud (performed, even), and perhaps (as is the intention) to be read out at my funeral. Let me know what you think. I really enjoyed writing it. The legacy of life I’ve packed my stuff and left the house The lights are off, the doors are locked And the key? It’s not under that little rock, any more. I ain’t coming back; I never had the knack for that supernatural crap. Whether I’d had enough Before the tap root of my tree of life’s sap ran dry... Who knows? What I ask is that you use my bricks, sticks and hay to build something, starting today: Anything that can grow and foster hope Anything to make this space we live in better able to cope; a finer place. No one likes to leave without a trace, after all, so make this useful, embrace life and face it head on. Whether it be taking some words I’ve written or said, putting them to good use, making a pledge or whether it be paying it forward, not just empty words, but actions (they speak louder, haven’t you heard?). So how do you do this good? you ask, spurred on, stirred. Do three great kind things to people around you a stranger, preferably, as a rule of thumb so it becomes about the act and not a bass drum announcing what you’ve done. Keep schtum, and ask they follow it on, and on and on—three times, not one. We need to break the sad, the mad, the bad and make this society the best we’ve ever had. I know I’m just a cog in this mighty world, this magnificent ticking machine, a mechanism only partly seen by our keen, marvelling eyes, but together we can realise the opportunity we all carry to build bridges between the haves and the have-nots. Don’t tarry, leave here and spot that chance to mine the quarry for the riches of goodness: hey, it ain’t easy, but just act morally. Don’t be sorry, pick yourself up and do better be better. Don’t just seek for glory (take it from me, you get boring). Now I’ve played my part in the lives of my wonderful family who survive me who would drive me day upon day in their own different ways and whose love is second to none. Don’t worry, I won’t bore you; for them I’ve got another one of these— suffice it to say that I hope we have moulded a pair of boys, emboldened to challenge and fight for what is right and use the might of their minds to carve out lives that remind others of what possibilities can lead to: strong and independent and finding their way through life to knowing who they are, lit by the resplendent light of knowledge and our love. Now, I’ve done what I’ve done, did some shit, had some fun. Look, it’s there, on the map: my journey laid out, unwavering, but I never felt trapped. Perhaps there were things I could have done more of, less of, been more attentive to, or not made a mess of... no... for sure. No regrets, I don’t like to keep the score. As with you all, I’ve opened up doors, played my part in the intricate universal jigsaw. Yada yada yada, Okay, stop that yawn. What’s the point of what I am saying, of this plea? I know that whatever is me will die with your memories, which will fade, you’ll see. I get it, that’s life, or death as may be. In these words, and others, I live for just a little time Perhaps a touch more than those on your lips This is my legacy: your memories, my writing, this rhyme. To do nothing now, after reading this, well, that’s a moral crime. Do better, be better, remember this open letter pleading for you to climb, pulling humanity with you, though it’s no burden, it’s a purpose, your purpose in life’s crazy circus, daring to go on, together to mighty heights. Is humanity the apex, the paragon of virtue, an evolved organism of wonder, of truth-seeking that nothing else is equal to? I don’t know, to find that out you might need a judicial review, because it could be construed to be untrue that humanity’s all that and a bag of chips right now. Who cares what’s now, it’s already been and gone All that matters is the course you’re on, where you’re going, what goal you’re set upon. Let this be the domino that knocks yours; rocks your foundation, then sets out the floor on which to build your bricks, sticks and hay that create your edifice of betterment all the way to somewhere new, somewhere great of harmony with this diverse world of humankind and beast which of late seems so perilous, but not yet deceased. You’re a part of your fate, and my final thing to state is that you own it; your life is for you to author: think before you write do it with a good pen, with clarity, and share your ink because you’ll blink and it’ll be gone. Jonathan MS Pearce
