The Wake #poem by Jan Sand

The Irish wake has a long tradition.
It involves the passing into death of a fellow human
And much concerned, with that life that has vanished.
It is a celebration of a life by those that remain to live.

None of us is immune to that final flourish, but a time has come,
When it seems quite clear there will be few if any left behind.
That minute hand on the doomsday clock is clicking to midnight,
So, it would be wise, while there is still food and drink, and some to mourn,
For that end celebration to begin.

Memories of old times are favored to recall when life once had a purpose.
Small pleasures wonderful to recall, deep forests and ice capped peaks.
Ringalario, hide and seek, red rover come over – are there still marbles?
Bumble bees, Cecropia moths, huge praying mantises and lightning bugs –
Are there any left, or like the disappearing birds, are they gone as well?

That black plastic telephone was supplied at no extra cost for installation.
Today, a thousand dollars is required for one discarded after a year.
Butcher shops, bakeries and shoemakers are now ancient history,
And that clerk at the grocery with that long-handled grabber for high shelves
Have vanished with the passenger pigeon replaced by flocks of pizza drones.

Here and there, on dark lonely nights, the rare lonely clicks of a typewriter
Might be heard from a stubborn creator who escaped the digital dragons, but,
They are a dying breed like the tigers, the lions, rhinos and the elephants.
Penguins and polar bears are melting away with the arctic ice and the glaciers.
The planet remains, reaching for the maturity of its close sister, Venus.

Now is the time for those cold cuts, pickles, apple pies, beer, and a shot of whiskey.
A tune on the piano or an accordion by someone who recalls “A bicycle built for two”
With a hope that somebody knows the words. No doubts there will be a few tears.
Plenty of horror must be forgotten in the hopes that on a planet in a distant galaxy
Some odd monster with tentacles is placing its happy child on a merry go round.