I’ve written this from the perspective of a mid-lifer, about how we get infinite chances at reinventing ourselves only if we’re looking for those opportunities. My children play video games and they have this permadeath feature where you can “press reset” repeatedly. What we lived real life like that?
What if we could shed old versions of ourselves, forgive our own mistakes, and drop toxic habits and people that don’t serve us?
Here’s to a new reset.
You Don’t Die Once
A Poem On Redemption
Unless you’re a mid-lifer like me,
this poem ain’t gonna hold your attention.
Skip if you’re still young.
Now listen.
Yes, it’s possible.
Yes, I’m saying you can press reset —
many times over, over and over,
each time killing off the version that no longer fits.
Seek your truth fresh every new day,
bathe in the golden hour.
You can’t rip up the newspapers,
but you can pause those endless notifications.
Stop lying to yourself one more time
that you love this desk, this grind.
Who are you fooling?
You’re only here to fire your previous self.
Quit rooting for every loud cause —
rip that ribbon off your bumper.
Some crazy mother f*cker might
become trigger-happy seeing your child in the back seat.
You traded the slaughter for a plant,
and even those damn things have feelings.
But, you must still reach for the pear,
instead of the Pringle crisp.
Board that overdue flight to see the old man’s body.
Forgive yourself for arriving late —
at least now look for that friend’s number,
stop swiping left a million times.
Pick up that shirt off the floor,
toss that dirty straw mat.
Subtract the excess you’ve got,
add only what truly matters.
Walk away. Enough. She picked up and crashed
the red hibiscus that reminds you of your mom.
Ignore the unforgivable and the vain —
believe in karma to rule its reign.
You can still dream the unthinkable,
leave the mundane to rot on its own.
Every new idea arrives as another small death —
and every death can help redeem you.
You’re dying many times like in the video game,
but this stranger staring back
in the mirror
is cleaner, sharper and alive again.
Yes, it’s possible.
Do it. Reset.
Life’s not one fatal run.
You don’t die just once.
–
Originally composed on: 04/11/2023 9:30pm
– 0 –
About The Article Author:
Hi, I’m Rachana. Its been my dream for years to do something to consciously create a better future where every one of us is excited about our own potential. My challenge to everyone is that they aspire for their personal best and leave a legacy of their work through their contributions to mankind.
One more thing. In December of 2044, I hope to win the Nobel.
Will you join me on this journey of growth and transformation?
Namasté.
Poetry
Human life without some form of poetry is not human life but animal existence. ~ Randall Jarrell
Still Standing, Still Standing.. – A Poem by Rachana
- The below is a first person account of a village tree who lost the friendship of a small boy to the big charm of the city.. - At day break, I wait for your shrill cries of laughter to pierce my ears..I ponder while I drink the primary...
The Emigrants Anthem: A Journey of Struggle, Hope, and Triumph
I Pursuing dreams,First steps Beckoning opportunities,Across oceans Proud sacrifices,Glistening eyes II Anxious freedom,Fertile memories Loyal sentiments,Burning dedication Liberating happiness,Humbled notions III Defending...
If You’re Feeling Like Ending Your Life, Please Read This First
- First, Breathe. And read this small note on real life. Believe it or not, everyone else, just like you are living real lives that are tough, monotonous and boring AF. The duality of terror and love lends life its gravity. Ask yourself your single most pain...
You Know You’re a Mom When.. – A Poem by Rachana
- You've wondered about your fear of death, when the only thing you have always been petrified about is your child digging into that forbidden closet or the bathroom cupboard to find out the secret stash of “things”? You've looked down on the bathroom floor to...
The Many Predicaments of a Single Woman – A Poem by Rachana
She walks as a liberal icon among peoplewho don’t realize their thoughtsare their barbed wires. She’ll march the streets for the disenfranchised,and maybe for those born with ugly faces,but not for them who have the talent for picking the wrong men. What about her?She...
Momentous: A Poem On The Value Of Time
* It’s not the lack of money that makes me cry like my heart is about to burst.You want to know what it is? It’s something you have or don’t more than I do, because there’s no straight finish line here.It ticks away silently mocking our indignant ways...
When Home Is Still Here And We Aren’t – A Poem by Rachana
- Want To Listen To The Article Instead? - Unlike refugees, who don't have a home behind or infront of them, we have a home. But, Will it remember all those mornings that the woodpecker made mating calls from its roof?How on sleepless nights,...
ప్రియ శరణార్థీ! నా జీవితం ఇలా నడవనీ.. (Dear Refugee, My Life Must Go On..)
- The original English version: Dear Refugee, my life must go on.. This poem appeared originally in The Saaranga Magazine HERE. - నన్నల్లుకున్న వెచ్చని కార్డిగన్, మెత్తని నా అరచేతుల మధ్య పొగలు కక్కే ‘లికరస్’ టీ........... పౌర హక్కుల్ని...
Why Darkness Can Be a Gift – A Poem By Rachana
As humans, we are wired to create and not consume. And that's why when we create a piece of art, we feel alive. This poem is a tribute to the struggle of creating something out of nothing. - Want To Listen To The Article Instead? - Years ago, you...
Heartbreaking Plea: A Mother’s Open Letter to Assad Exposing the Horrors of Genocide
The Letter Assad, It is tough for me to think of you as a product of a biochemical blissful event, a distinct moment in time.Should I have sniffed the life out of you the moment I held you in my arms? The pain, the struggle that I went through to bring you...
Dear Refugee, My Life Must Go On.. – A Poem By Rachana
- 0 - The translated Telugu version: ప్రియ శరణార్థీ! నా జీవితం ఇలా నడవనీ.. This poem appeared originally in The Saaranga Magazine HERE. - It's not too unthinkable,sipping licorice tea in my cardigan,And day dreaming of a life of civil liberties....
Momentous: A Poem On The Value Of Time
- It's not the lack of money that makes me cry like my heart is about to burst.You want to know what it is? It's something you have or don't more than I do, because there's no straight finish line here.It ticks away silently mocking our indignant ways...












Trackbacks/Pingbacks