Saturday, February 05, 2005

The Vigil

What have I to say
that hasn't been said?
What can I extract
from this life of mine?
What essence is there?
"I want to leave a legacy, write a book,
do a painting.

"What about, ‘You were a good friend.',"
you said.
‘Isn't that enough?’"

I want to be famous,
indulge my fancy,
have the boys dance around me,
be on television, radio and in the movies,
kiss the stars,
wave at the fans,
receive the prizes that should be mine,
be a household name,
bask in the sun.

"What about ‘You were a good friend',"
you said.
‘Isn't that enough?’"

A breeze lifted smoke
from your cigarette
into the air,
like whims of vanity,
or wisps of dreams
that vanish like the soul
of our dying friend upstairs.

Will he be remembered once we are gone?
What have I done,
in this life,
to think that one would remember me?

Copyright 1996 Ron Hudson. Previously appeared in Other Voices Poetry International, Vol. 5.



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