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I have been reading a book of interviews on the subject of aging and dying. All of a sudden, I felt this kinship with the dead. No, this was not a scary turn toward the morbid for me, but it was a turn. Up to this moment, I have always identified with the living, which is almost too obvious to even state. But, the point is that such identification occurs unconsciously; that is how the ego operates and maintains itself. But, while reading a brief account of a woman who was dying, my orientation suddenly switched: I will be that dying person one day, and then I will be dead. Those who have passed on constitute a community unto themselves.

I have always shied away from communities and organizations and associations. Perhaps it's the introvert in me; I am happy to be alone. Even so, I have no aversion to joining the DEAD CLUB. It's almost heart-warming to belong. How odd is that?

summer light
in this handful of earth
untold lives