Ending
Sometimes things end
They really do
My friends have lost a cat
Who died
I knew him, too
We say each life is precious
Maybe we meant it when
We say it, too
But we act as if
A lack of consciousness
Has taken over
And nothing counts but what
We want,
A pile of what we want
I’m not sure what to do
About flowers
We need them for so many things
Plants, we have to eat them
Life for life?
There is no other way
Until we find the chemicals
That feed us without
Killing the planet
Or our insides
Even then, there will be carbon
The basis for all life
We must consume that, yes?
Then it will be gone until we are gone,
Blended back into the universe
Molecularly speaking
There must be an exchange
Small life for bigger life
Plants, maybe fish
Some think chickens are too stupid
To be let go
Maybe we made them that way
But there must be endings:
In the living things we eat
In the blood we surrender when
We are wounded
In the life we surrender
Because mortality is limited,
And all things
Might be finite
There is sex
That’s an ending, too
Even in release
In order to have life
Other things are ending
Measures of freedom
Money
If a lack can count as something
Lack of responsibility is ending
To have something new
Maybe it’s a cycle
Though miraculous each time
Unique like (and as) a new story
So there’s a mystery
Ending life to have life
The seasons teach us
Lessons in the trees
Even evergreens have seasons
Plants that are perennial
Plants that need replanting
New life that is spring
And what is new each day
I don’t like endings
The idea,
When it happens
Which might be why we
Salute an ending with some alcohol
The deading of some brain cells
So we might get over
Counting out mortality
And here’s an ending
Because there has to be one
C L Couch
Photo by Conor Firth on Unsplash
clcouch123 
March 11, 2020 at 3:46 pm
I think the only ending (of something we enjoyed) we can accept is when something else starts. The idea of stasis is like halting at the edge of a precipice. Will momentum drag us over anyway? We need to keep placing duckboards down in the mud, keep going, get another cat, have a drink, but keep doing. Death is the biggie. I know lots of people who talk about their cat or dog as their ‘last’ because they can’t bear the idea of another one dying. It doesn’t get any easier to bear, and they don’t live long enough to outlast their welcome.
March 11, 2020 at 5:55 pm
Your advice is sound. Keep going. We can’t hang on to something that is over, anyway. Not on this side of things. And you’re right; over here (on this side), “Death is the biggie.” It’s a biggie with me. It shouldn’t be, maybe. It’s all around us, and it’s real. But each ending makes me sad. I guess it’s supposed to. But “keep placing the duckboards.” That’s relevant and wise.
March 11, 2020 at 7:37 pm
No, you’re right to see death as an important event. Even if you believe it’s a jumping off point for somewhere else, it’s still a leap in the dark. The next place might not be all it’s cracked up to be. I’ll just keep the duckboards handy for now.
March 12, 2020 at 3:57 am
Oh. Quite a thought-provoking ride this is. the last two lines felt like i have reached my bus stop and it is time for me to reflect on my own.
“All endings are also beginnings. We just don’t know it at the time.”
― Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet In Heaven