The Mad Dash

For all of us
are contained
between that dash—
our births,
the way we suckled on
our mother’s teats,
our first steps, and first

The many times we
walked to school.

Our sins,
our achievements,
the memories
of who we loved.

Our many vices
and frailties,
our deepest failures and
our greatest triumphs,
the many people
we touched.

All this crammed
between the date of
our birth and the
final date of
our demise.