Most of Our Lives

It takes a long time to die.

There are exceptions, of course,

Terrifying exceptions,

But odds are you won’t wink out.

Edward Abbey noted this

Even of a juniper

Uprooted in the desert.

“I don’t know if it suffers,”

He wrote, adding, “But I know

It takes a long time to die.”

When I rescue a nestling,

Too late, from the thrilled cat’s jaws,

When I spot the cat, too late,

Struck and dying on the road,

When I recall grandparents

Clueless in hospital beds

The last years of their lives,

I know that it’s unlikely

That I’ll be dying tonight.

One night’s rarely got the time

To get that much dying done—

In all likelihood, I’ll live

Years with the hooks in my mouth.

I’ve snapped a line more than once,

But these hooks, they don’t come out.