questioned marks

A life well lived is
what? And how? And what happens,
if, in the end, you somehow realize
that
yours wasn’t? Do you
carry
that
disappointment into the
next life – if there is one? Or does
a light flash and everything suddenly
is
made
OK? Or do you, can you
in your last breath, if given one,
reconcile all that was done and even
that
which
wasn’t? Someone once told me not
to write
questions if I was trying to write poetry,
and
I think
he may have been right.
But what else is there, in the end,
but
questions?
Answers, perhaps?
Maybe that’s
the
heaven people
talk of – knowing that you did
what you did and why and that it was
all alright.