When I am dead
My poem is intentionally pragmatic, reflecting my own scientific approach to life and death.
I was prompted to write my poem ‘When I am dead’ following the death of my own father last year at the age of 102. During his final years, his increasingly frailty and frequent bouts of illness caused him to regret having lived to such a great age and this is reflected in my poem, which I have written very much from a scientist’s viewpoint of the circle of life.
When I am Dead
What will become of me when I am dead?
I often wonder this as I grow older.
The thought comes to me frequently and I
Suspect that my subconscious mind grows bolder
As my demise inevitably draws closer.
We know that that death’s a natural event
That ends the life of everything around us.
We see it daily in all living things –
In insects, plants and fungi that confound us.
Our own mortality, though, seems surreal.
I understand the universe recycles
All matter that exists within its bounds.
I know the atoms that make up my body
Are resting there so briefly it astounds
Me that I’m merely a repository.
Through all the breaths I’ve taken, I’ve inhaled
The molecules of those who’ve lived before.
Exhaling, I give compounds to the ether
To be absorbed next week, next year and more,
By others whohave never known my name.
I’ll pay back all the elements I’ve borrowed –
Some in my lifetime, others when I’m gone.
A most efficient process of recycling
Without which living things could not go on.
The building blocks would rapidly deplete.
I totally accept a world existed
Before my birth, although a strange conception.
And equally I know that one is certain to remain
When I am gone. But what is the perception
That enables me to visualise this future?
Life is an endless struggle for survival –
A struggle that we know we all shall lose.
Are we the only species with awareness
Of our mortality? Why do we choose
To try to live as long as we are able?
Do other creatures seek their own longevity
Or is their aim survival of their kind?
Some sacrifice themselves to reproduce
And once they have achieved this, they’re resigned;
Their job is done. Their purpose is fulfilled.
So why then are we humans all so eager
To live on way beyond a useful age?
And why have many people over centuries
Longed for that immortality, which any sage
Should know would spell the death of all that lives?
In common, I imagine, with most others,
I wish a peaceful death to end my life.
For some, this comes much sooner than they’d like it
And painfully, perhaps; it’s all too rife.
So maybe that’s a reason why some fear it.
It’s not the state of being dead that troubles,
But wondering when and how and where I’ll be.
While those whose lives are longer than they wish
Just yearn to leave this world and hope to see
An end to their intolerable state.
So take my kidneys, liver, heart and colon,
My pancreas and lungs, and take my brain.
I’ll have no further need for all these organs
So use them to relieve another’s pain.
Absurdly, though, I’d like to keep my eyes!
I wonder when the atoms in my body
Will show up somewhere else in other form.
That will depend how long my corpse remains
Exposed to air and moisture, whether warm
Or cold, refrigerated and embalmed.
Whilst I myself am not concerned about
The creatures that will certainly consume me,
I hope I shall not die and lie alone
For days or weeks because I would presume the
Image of my rotting would abhor.
My nearest and my dearest would recoil
Identifying each decaying feature.
I really would prefer to be remembered
As when I was a scientist, a teacher,
A wife, a mother, grandmother and friend.
Written By: Valerie Simpson BSc CChem FRSC
Valerie Simpson
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- When I am dead - January 6, 2014