Poetry by Farah Lawal Harris

Tentative Tomorrow

if i knew that i were going to die
would i be satisfied?
would my life
be a reflection of beauty
or one of regrets and unfinished tasks,
loose ends never to be tied
because i died?
how many people would cry,
contemplate, pause in confusion,
come to the conclusion
that this life is really just illusion?
we see what we want
and ignore that which we fear
so that our vision is sometimes clear
and other times fogged
from allowing our hearts and minds to sit on the shelf
for too long.

what is the shelf life of this life?
a part of me wishes i could know
my expiration date
so that i could stop dwelling on every mistake i make,
and instead appreciate
the fact that i have x many days
to decide to change.
perhaps i could warn those around me of the hour
when they will no longer
see me before them.
or maybe i’ll surprise them…
bless them with the light of my life
to the point that they don’t consider my night.
both of these possibilities seem alright
but in reality i have no idea when God will grab me,
snatch me up like a child acting up
so i walk in anticipation, desperation, adoration
of the promised today
and the hypothetical, tentative


One response

  1. 1sojournal

    There is a great deal within this piece. It’s a bit like several smaller pieces, or a series of poems all connected to the same general topic. That said, I do like the overall movement that swings back and forth between deliberate introspection and the very real human curiosity of what life will be without the me in it.


    August 31, 2008 at 12:47 pm

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