Cardboard, wood or concrete
What do I care about my body
Once I am dead?
I try to accept death with equanimity
With reasonings
I have had all my life to get used to the idea
And it happens to us all, in the end, so it can’t be so bad, can it?
But being closer now to the moment
Does not alter one whit
The fear which has surfaced
From time to time
Throughout my adult life.
I am not prepared to die
I do not accept my mortality
Or anyone else’s, come to that.