On my way to teaching my lovely yoga class this paradoxical poem:✍️
       We Die When We’re Supposed To

We die when we’re supposed to,
Karma chained in cause/effect.
One eve I lay there,
Sorry, sad and full of fear
When of a sudden, shocked, aware,
The snare of truth, as clear as day,
Told me that we pass away
From causes self-created
From our characters, our choices,
Gene pushed, situation fated…

You know, when you get these flashes,
(call them insights, revelations, mind disclosures)
You can sense veracity’s exposures crashing in
And you’ve no choice
But to believe
What mind and thought receive,
In this case this:
Death comes when it will,
And it is up
To us to give this hidden ‘reasoning’ a whirl
And take the pill
However bad the taste.

We Die When We’re Supposed To 9.18.2012/8.16.2018 Birth, Death & In Between II; Arlene Nover Corwin

and all this time goes
watch and go and go
and all this time goes
and the weather outside the window is changing
It does not change and will never change

there will be my eternal steps and eternal
Cotton on my feet and not mine
will be eternal in front of shadows and shadows
who were luminous or not at all
never been deprived of it has always been

16.08.18

I use men over and over again
and they don't mind
I'm humane and kind
I don't cross boundaries
I'm just a guest
we both know it and it's already been addressed.

When he undressed me he didn't ask about my father.
When he kissed me he didn't press into my heart
because that place is very ****** dark.

I use men over and over again
to feel something
to have fun
it doesn't really matter,
because we're all agreed, this is something we both need.

But you pushed and shoved, smashed and cannonballed my wall,
I didn't want you to ask or see behind my mask,
And even though I fought this fight with laughter against your shooting questions,
you pushed and shoved against my door to find out more.

You were sweet I must admit, romantic and gentle,
but there is a reason everything is compartmental.

because when you left the next day you didn't stop to check the doorway,
where you carelessly left behind my open heart and eyes.
I didn't want to share my insides because as you walked away you didn't check to see what damage you had done.
Asking questions you didn't want the answers to.

I use men but I don't ask more than I'm ready to receive,
and they agree I'm not trying to deceive,
but you blew the doors of pandoras box and left me with the mess
that I now have to try and repress

I keep getting asked "are you okay?"
Good question.
When will I finally be pretty?
Good question
I'll cut my hair and fake a smile
Hoping someone will stay a while
Why am I such a crybaby?
Good question
they say a broken heart is one that's been loved
But I guess nothing's perfect.
Who am I?
Good question
The best questions are the ones without answers.