Each day a knife walk, life and death,
Step left to die or right to breath.
My time will come to trip and stumble,
Fall to make my whole world crumble.
Do not mourn for me.
Great storms I’ve seen on the wild deep sea,
With all that’s windward and in lee.
Those starry nights etched sharp and clear,
Warm sunshine memories of cheer.
Do not mourn for me.
From trees I’ve swung among the crows,
Trod yielding earth between my toes.
Scaled mountainsides of craggy stone,
Trekked darkened forests all alone.
Do not mourn for me.
I’ve loved and been loved many times,
Those hosts of friends with happy wines.
Nurtured children, seen them fly,
Uplifted hearts and waved goodbye.
Do not mourn for me.
I’ve witnessed beauty and the beast,
Downtrodden poor still unreleased.
Was humbled giving when I could,
Found meaning there for others’ good.
Do not mourn for me.
I balance e’er twixt life and death,
Not watching out for my last breath.
But when it comes I’ll take my turn,
If I shall rise or I shall burn.
Do not mourn for me.
© 2020 Jim Loft