Poem: Life and Death


It’s easy to say death is a natural occurrence,

much like a bird flying in the sky,

or the sun rising in the morning,

and setting when it darkens.

But, life is a natural thing too.

It sits on a table, sometimes reserved for those

who have nothing to gain and nothing to lose.

Awareness of the end doesn’t matter for those already lived.

The ones who were created and who used are imprinted

on the minds of loved ones.

Their flesh have disappeared from their bones,

they found solitude and maybe gnawed on or deliberately turned into ashes,

and kept in urns on fireplace mantles.

It’s easy to say death shouldn’t be feared,

but many times the answer on the other side responds loudly,

some short, some lengthy, but all watered down versions of truth.

They step away, leaving footprints, and recognizable patterns.

For I understand death isn’t to be desired,

and life isn’t something to fool around with,

even when it’s purely by chance for those with beating hearts.

Some desire to go back in time, maybe sickened a moment later,

for the realization hits them.

Much can go wrong with lines not firmly drawn,

and raw emotions smelling like hard boiled eggs.

Death is an anticipation that doesn’t change the inevitable,

a nuisance and longing at same time,

bodies will break and minds will surrender when the strings unravel.

It accentuates where oxygen travels.

It’s easy to say life should be a welcome experience,

a kind of birth and maybe rebirth,

but no is immune to rare deviations.

When the bird no longer can fly,

and the sun fully disappears on the horizon,

and the moon never offers guidance,

it’s not so easy enjoy this coexistence when you’re still alive.


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