Attempted solitude

he came to me in a dream,
smiling; complete in death as he had never been in life

his assisted suicide had been a success
he was happy, confident, complete
but it was different for him than for me
with no family to pull him into the future
he had stared, shocked and bemused
as his ailing body spat out his faculties
until he took the upper hand

I attemped solitude
shut myself away, barred the obvious entrances,
but had not the courage or indulgence
to seal the yawning cracks
through which love and pain enters

every day I make the choice to live
with the heartbreaking crash of chance and humanity
and with its great and little pleasures and consolations
rather than sail into his placid white silence

©Jane Paterson Basil

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