A friend posted a meme on
Facebook that directed us scrollers
to choose one from a grid of twelve.
Options included items like:
Being Able to Travel Anywhere Instantly
Having the Largest Social Media Following in the World
Being the Reigning Monarch of a Medium-Sized But Wealthy Country
Winning a Five Hundred Million Dollar PowerBall.
The option I chose was near the top of the list,
and I knew it was my choice
before I even read the others.
Pick Any Age to Be Forever.
The age part wasn’t so important.
Twenty-five had been nice.
Forty had redeeming moments.
This age I am now, I have no quarrel with.
No, the part that was important was
If I could be immortal
and still a decent human being,
then I could make all the choices.
I could go back to school at
87 to study architecture and then again at
142 to become a classical musician and
309 to finally master quadratic equations.
I could watch nations rise and fall and rise again.
I could live in every country
for a year or ten or as long as I want.
I could actually read every book on my shelf.
tango in Buenos Aires,
can can in Paris,
flamenco in Barcelona.
Vampires live such interesting lives.
I would take a version of that,
But it was just a meme,
and selecting one wish from a list
doesn’t make it come true,
so my options are limited.
My fresh starts aren’t infinite.
The choices I’ve already made
came with consequences.
I can’t live long enough to
ease the remorse of poor decisions
learn to avoid them altogether
(a lesson obviously requiring
a longer curriculum than
If I could live forever,
I might learn how
to love you,
clear and clean,
an endless supply
or renewal fees
to not ever
leave you behind
to hold on
as if this
as it is,
my choices have
sometimes driven a stake
through your heart.
I won’t live
long enough to learn how
to make them right.
I may not even
I needed to try.
The immortal hope -
living through to perfection.
The only mortal one -
© 2020 Deborah E. Moore, All Rights Reserved