Monday, April 03, 2006

wondering about dying

You tell me about death,
I fear it greatly, I fear.

I fear it happening to you now
For no reason, as you question -

Why the diseased rot in beds, disintegrate,
Yet exist in too slow obliteration.

Why comforts metamorphose into demons
Piloting a trip to the whale's belly.

Why parents die without a will,
Without kindness, without forgiveness.

Why friends take a flight a bus a car,
And never return to us.

Why some hurtle towards darkness,
Drown in a sea and vanish.

I fear and you wonder why
We live and etch graves in our memories.

You ask all this and I fear, I fear
For I know the shadow that walks with me.

You speak of death, and I know,
I know you know it could happen to me.



"We live and etch graves in our memories." Splendid line. And, va sans dire, a splendid poem as always!


Alex said...

thank you :-)

Pincushion said...

"We live and etch graves in our memories."

A perfect and poignant line!
Superb writing!