A 17-Year-Old Died Today

A 17-Year-Old Died Today

I read in the news a 17-year-old teenager
passed away today.

No news of what from.

But not from an accident or a homicide.

Sadly, I suspect he died from a congenital heart defect.

I hate that every so often a young person dies
and seems to miss out on so many things
he or she could have experienced in this life.

My way of finding some acceptance of it
is to imagine they get to a better place sooner.

Of course, I might be fooling myself, but
nonetheless it gives me some comfort in what
otherwise seems so terribly unfair to me.

Many accounts of NDEs suggest I might be right,
but none of those people were permanently dead,
and scientists present good arguments that what
the NDEers experience could be just illusions as the
brain shuts down and oxygen depletes.

But I’m sticking to the optimistic theory that a
better life exists beyond this one, and that those
who get their sooner despite how they died
are the luckier ones.

Bob Boyd

Today I Remembered Her

Though she was ungrateful for all I did for her,
and walked away despite my kindness to her,
I wonder if she is okay now.

I wonder if after her being gone for 11 years
if she is still alive and doing well,
or if she is in a bad relationship
or entirely alone and miserable.

I don’t carry the torch for her.

Leaving me was for the best for both of us.

I wish her no ill will and hope the 11 years
have been good and happy for her.

She had been a forgotten part of my life
until today when I briefly thought of her
and felt a little concern about what might
have happened to her, if her life might
have gone badly and hoping it had not.

As I end this poem, my thoughts of her
are ending too with a final hope that
her life has gone well and that she is ok.

Bob Boyd

The Fading of One’s History

The longer I live, the more I see how
one’s history begins to fade away
as time passes.

Monumental events begin to seem
as if they never happened.

It’s all like a dream that becomes more
and more indistinct.

Some of it eventually is completely forgotten,
or you have to really think hard about your past
to get even a fleeting glimpse of it.

It’s like a preview of how with death and
time everything you were and did will be
forever forgotten.

Bob Boyd