Nicolas Greenwood

Everyone Dies, but You Are Not Everyone

Everyone dies, but
you are not everyone.
You are someone.
And when you feel drowsy,
you must not succumb to sleep,
but struggle—do you hear me? Struggle!—and
flood your vision with daylight.

Everyone dies, but
you are not everyone.
You are someone.
And when you feel weak,
you must not let your muscles relax,
but tense them—do you hear me? Tense them!—and
clench your teeth tightly together.

Everyone dies, but
you are not everyone.
You are someone.
And when your heartbeats begin to falter,
you must not lose breath,
but fill your lungs with air—do you hear me? Fill your lungs
with air!—and
fix your eyes on the sky.

Everyone dies, but
you are not everyone.
You are someone.
And when darkness appears around the corners of your
vision
you must not let go,
but look into my eyes—do you hear me? Look into my
eyes!—and
chase the darkness away.

Everyone Dies, but You Are Not Everyone

About This Poem

My mother would often mention how, as a child, when someone would speak about death, she would imagine herself running, fleeing from death—forcing herself to stay alive by sheer will. The concept of defying the inevitable has always fascinated me and inspires a lot of my work. In many aspects this poem was also inspired by Dylan Thomas’s famous poem Do not go gentle into that good night, one of my favorite poems.

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