I nearly died six years ago
not in a sudden sort of way where my life flashed before my eyes
Rather a slow approach
A wraithlike floating away, close enough to see the other side
The side of dust and stone
Immortal and infinitely slow

But I want to tell you about memories of my childhood
I remember it like the blur when I take off my glasses
or a painting smudged by careless fingers
I’ve been asking myself why that was the case
there was no outstanding trauma to erase
but environment, diet, distraction, teachings, hardening
blocking, confusion, boyhood, manhood
I grew into a closed person

Dying changed all that
I could never put myself back together the same way
Part of me still feels eighteen years old
Like it stopped at age twelve
and only restarted then
I’ve been trying to see everyone like that
many ages, all at the same time
overlapping births, deaths, pauses, restarts