These are the tender mercies given me

by our Mother-Father-God

as years accumulate

and my body disintegrates:

The, sometimes gentle, extra

defibulations of my heart:

The added pains of morning start

and the diminishment of other risings

so long enjoyed:

All those migrating aches which keep moving

from my ankles to knees,

hip to spine and back again,

as unpredictable as they please:

The soft whispers heard only in my mind,

{if read aloud, whisper here}

“Time is passing, Kenneth,

and I am being kind

by helping you remember

tomorrow’s not a given.

This day only, is for

Everything

you want to do or say

but haven’t,

yet.

So, come that day

when they lay you down,

your spirit bound for

mas alya del sol,

you’ll be ready

and be done.”