Death of a Flashlight
The little silver flashlight
died the other night,
I was putting in new batteries.
Duracells. 2 AAs.
This is the flashlight you gave me
when I last visited you in Durham
those many years ago.
The time I bought the blue sleeping bag
(which serves me well to this day).
The flashlight sometimes failed to light,
but always worked after 2 or 3 tries.
It's long life has ended.
Perhaps it did not prosper
but it often reminded me of you.
Let us not see the small broken form
it resembles today
Let us instead remember the glow
of its former glory,
the time it was used to rescue
that scared cat from the midnight
blackberry bush thicket behind the apartments
in Auburn;
those nights illuminating dark tent corners.
Night was when it really shined.
Now it has joined that great light in the sky.
It will never need batteries again.
Are maglights recyclable?
Does light ever die?
All the stars will eventually burn out.
And you and I, and the maglight company,
and even Duracell will be no more.
Is there light after death?
And after the death of light,
no light for reading
no need for needing
no teat for feeding.
Ars longa, lux brevis.
Goodbye little flashlight, you served us well.
Off to the store!
Frank Brown
Copyright 1995 by Frank Brown