Poem: My Funeral Speech

If someone were ignorant enough

Of the way that I think,

Or courageous enough,

To ask me to speak at a funeral,

.

I don’t think everyone would stay

Until the end

Of my speech.

Or that they would allow me to.

.

Because I

Would sigh,

Look everyone in the eye,

And then say…

.

What has happened

(“To” “the deceased”)

Is not a miracle,

And was inevitable:

.

To live

Is to owe life

To die—

To leave

Life.

.

It takes some people

A long time to pay.

And it takes some

A short time.

.

Some people are paying now,

As I speak.

And the rest of us will pay later.

Over a million of us,

(Thousands of whom are not

And will not be sick,

Hundreds of whom are strong),

Within a week.

.

Some people leave life after

They have lived for a hundred

Years.

And some leave life before

They have lived for a hundred

Seconds.

Or even four—

Or less.

.

What’s more,

Almost all of us

(All of whom

Did not choose

Whether to exist)

Do not choose

When to exit

Life—

Although we can,

If we choose

To exit now.

.

In other words,

And in closing,

The bigger the family,

The longer the list

Of corpses

It owes life.

* * *

(This poem is available as a print, sticker, on a canvas, tote bag, etc.)

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Some of my books: Why I Write, F for Philosopher, On Friendship.