And When I Die
Cancer Stories . Motorcycle Vapors . Mutterings And Murmurs . Social StudiesFrom the day I died, things started to get strange, but eerily familiar…but in a good way. The sky was blue as it once was, the clouds formed in natural white shapes. The air was warm and clean and fresh as if it had just rained on apple trees and fresh cut grass. The trees, shrubs and grasses were lush with color. I had that feeling I get when I dismount after a good ride. A bit tired and sore but feeling good, a few more miles on the odometer, every shift and curve and trail break perfectly executed. My ears were ringing slightly as they usually do. My eyes slightly crusty from tears of joy, remembered sorrow and environmental irritation. There is the usual clicking of cooling pipes and other metals. My leg hurt. My good cells doing what they should, the bad still working against them. Something new was percolating. I’m thirsty. I drink. The water is clear and good.
Life is good.
Was Good.
Still good after.
There is a lingering smell of cooling, swirling exhaust and vapors and sweaty helmet head.
With a faint hint of melancholy and longing for more.
And a light.
How Did You Die? – A Poem By Edmund Vance Cooke –
| Did you tackle that trouble that came your way With a resolute heart and cheerful? Or hide your face from the light of day With a craven soul and fearful? Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce, Or a trouble is what you make it, And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts, But only how did you take it? You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that? Come up with a smiling face. It’s nothing against you to fall down flat, But to lie there — that’s disgrace. The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce; Be proud of your blackened eye! It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts, It’s how did you fight — and why? And though you be done to the death, what then? If you battled the best you could, If you played your part in the world of men, Why, the Critic will call it good. Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce, And whether he’s slow or spry, It isn’t the fact that you’re dead that counts, But only how did you die? This poem is in the public domain. |
And When I Die – Song by Laura Nyro – Covered by Many
I’m not scared of dying
And I, don’t really care
If it’s peace you find in dying
Well then, let the time be near
If it’s peace you find in dying
Well then dying time is near
Just bundle up my coffin
‘Cause it’s cold way down there
I hear that it’s
Cold way down there, yeah
Crazy cold, way down there
And when I die, and when I’m gone
There’ll be, one child born
In this world
To carry on, to carry on
Now troubles are many
They’re as
Deep as a well
I can swear there ain’t no Heaven
But I pray there ain’t no hell
Swear there ain’t no Heaven
And I’ll pray there ain’t no hell
But I’ll never know by livin’
Only my dyin’ will tell, yes only my
Dyin’ will tell, oh yeah
Only my dyin’ will tell
And when I die, and when I’m gone
There’ll be, one child born, in this world
To carry on, to carry on
Yeah yeah
Give me my freedom
For as long as I be
All I ask of livin’
Is to have no chains on me
All I ask of livin’
Is to have no chains on me
And all I ask of dyin’ is to
Go natrually, only wanna
Go naturally
Here I go!
Hey hey
Here come the devil
Right behind
Look out children, here he come
Here he come, heyyy
Don’t wanna go by the devil
Don’t wanna go by the demon
Don’t wanna go by satan
Don’t wann die uneasy
Just let me go
Naturally
And when I die, and when I’m dead
Dead and gone
There’ll be
One child born, in our world
To carry on, to carry on