Untitled
’Twill come, I know, as no surprise.
(I speak, of course, of my demise.)
The signs abound, for all to see:
A curtailed life expectancy.
My breath is short, my sighs are long,
The heart beats sound (to me, all wrong.)
Self-pity I will not embrace,
But these are facts that one must face.
My keepers shower me with praise,
Resorting to outworn cliches.
“Rehab will make you feel so great,”
They shamelessly prevaricate.
Meanwhile, I feel of strength a dearth,
Enough to keep me down to earth.
And if my reasoning is sound,
I’ll soon be resting underground.
“At times he made some people laugh.”
Might constitute my epitaph.
Stanley Siegelman, the Forward’s bilingual bard, passed away April 11 at the age of 87. Read reflections on Stanley’s life and work from his editor Daniel Treiman and his longtime friend Bob Brody. Read his writings for the Forward here.
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