Cobwebs - Season of Death
Sometimes life is the tragedy
of a fly, caught in a cobweb -
awaiting its fate.
It's happening again,
a child of summer misplaced
in the dawn of autumn's anguish.
All I want is to smell spring flowers.
My pen struggles to breathe,
in this downfall season of death,
yet the ink pours with the insecurities of rain.
Ten years later, memories remain,
as monotonous funereal hues fill the air.
Once again you disturb my sleep.
A black shadow with no halo nor wings,
I can see the whiteness of your eyes,
similar to mine, trying to connect -
but I fail to comprehend the messages.
An uninvited guest at your death bed,
I broke promises to never cry that day.
Not sure if it was rage or regret,
but walls could have shattered to the floor,
lying in shards of stubborn bitterness.
You were the most mighty tree I had seen,
but your branches never sheltered me.
How you had fallen like autumn leaves,
waiting to be elevated from the ground.
No longer could you sin nor cause pain.
I remember your last silent breath,
held your hand as your eyes closed forever.
I still place flowers upon your resting place,
but remain torn in this battle of emotions
wondering if I should destroy cobwebs,
or let spiders feast upon their prey.
Silent One
24 October 2020
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