Samurai

I’d like to die like a samurai in battle,

fighting for a worthy cause.

I’d like to live like one in the certain awareness

that death could come at any time.

The longer I live, the closer I come, the more

I beat my own hopeless drum.

The Charge of the Light Brigade immortalized 

in poetry, futility on a pedestal, a prelude to 

World War, industrialized hopelessness.

There was the Lost Generation after WW one,

the Beats after WW two…it was something 

that they knew.

Paradise on earth avoids us except for the few

that found it by accident or trained their minds,

saw through the illusion of existence, what the

samurai knew.

Is that why they were determined enough to cut

their stomachs open in final sacrifice, or was it a

cultural thing to do?

I wonder if any/many ran away instead…I bet

there were a few.

It hurts to die, which is probably good to keep

survival going, humanity on track.

Canada makes it easy to die: one hundred thousand 

euthanized so far, government sanctified, but what

do Canadians really have to live for, a wag might say…

it’s cold up there and the fishing isn’t that good anymore.

On the other hand, the Inuit survive…I doubt they ask

“What for?”

“Death is real, comes without warning, this body will 

be a corpse.” might  have come from the samurai, but

it’s actually a Buddhist reminder…so the samurai didn’t 

have a corner on that market.

People here notice me but don’t bother me, like motorists

passing a bad accident slowly, looking for a glimpse of gore.

A mystery, a tragedy, entertainment in misfortune, I find it

curious that the “special forces” in movies get so quickly

taken down by the heroes, cannon fodder as was coined before.

Today we’re entertained by death even more,

which inures us to its reality.

Don’t shoot the messenger.