“without me”

All of this goes on without me.

The pepper shaker is dashed and passed,
dashed and passed,
until all men and women have shared
in the spice
they have craved for all these years.

All of this goes on without me,
so I wonder now—
having cracked this pepper
and making my singular offering,
if I have anything that remains
that might be ever called my own,
or credited for the sacrifice,
handed over
by the ones who prosper
while I can only grow old.

The girls run.
The boys give chase.
The sprinkler turns over
and wets the grass
above my grave.
The girls fall.
The boys run past.
And the sprinkler is shut off
for another season to pass.

All of this goes on without me.
All of this;
And all I am credited for
is the white marble headstone
that so many trip upon—
to cause the fall.
They weaken from the fall—
and I do too.
And so this goes on
until I am weathered down
to be level with loam
that I am one part of by now.

narrative poem written on 08-01-2010 by: on mattkane.com
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