What if you were to treat this as your last moment?

what if
you were to let go
of all the frayed notions
of what happiness
might look like?
see—here is a wide, open day
already broken into pieces
small enough
to fit into your waiting hands.
here is your breath
still thrumming faithfully
against the pink walls of your chest.
you might want more
than you have been given.
grass under your bare feet.
a clay pot of earth
to call your own.
a life
beneath a wild expanse
of stars.
but listen!
the soft sound of your life
tiptoeing towards the door
is saying,

now! now! now!

is all you have.
anything else
is still waiting to be given
—might not even be yours, although
you call it

— what if you were to treat this as your last moment?

© Liezel Graham 2021.

Image by Andreas Kretchmer on Unsplash.