David Death

David Death David Death was strong but handsome, But he suffered from much discrimination, Because his beauty was shaded, unlit, Which found him called ugly and unfit. He understood why this error occurred, So always made the effort to nicely speak, To communicate effectively his meaning, And did so sensitively but very clearly. So the moment I chatted opened up to him, When I first to David started to cognate, Then the more he spoke back to me, to me, Although he made much initial sense, point. I was rightened, my lips became luscious, My security was deposited without glare, I was given the future, handed the present, And evolution became my chair, reason. I could then be most moral because of David, As well as for many other of reasons of life, But David said that he was universal, for all, Wished to talk to me sometime, tho’ not yet. He said he’d call on me again in due course, Expected to visit when I was aged eighty-five, Hesitated until he knew my reaction, my eye, Because he wanted to assure me not before. He said he wanted to come then, at that age, And not sooner, not before for anything, But he emphasised he’d rather come later, Then sooner, but would come specifically. I got the distinct impression quietly there, sat, That my epigenetics or lifestyle would matter, That he would not surprise me with a fright, But that dangerous driving would cart, blast. Having met Death, because he is a person, I felt liberated, freedom reigned everywhere, Stars shone as objects to shine or to collide, Maybe causing black holes, in form changed. He promised he was not silent, in hiding, Since all you must do to understand him, Is to think about him, but very deeply, once, For him and for your life to be different. However, the chat went wrongly, I thought, Because we started discussing god, doctrine, But it released a mud-pile inside, injuries, Which had been there from my birth morning. We got onto the subject because of his claim, Which was free speech and free expression: They were ultimately his, not another’s bliss: The gate opened wide from being half open. He said that your relationships with others, Are yours, personal, not for your parents, Or for your community, like your church, To comment upon for their own elevation. And if you win these friendship freedoms, In life, then that’s great and totally fantastic, But if you’re view and feelings of another, Are submerged, then in grief you’ll assert. Ok, he admitted, you may only self-assert, But, the bottom line is, if you can remember, Your loved one or friend yourself to grieve, Then you’ll cope with their absence standing. He looked at me straight in my eyes, long, Knowing that church is just one of the many, Social norms today by which Christians dance, To say: “Social norms don’t grieve. You do.” I understood exactly the wrong he did right, Inertly, because I’d been taught bereavement, When at church or when in family quiet times, Or by mother who’d say I’d know Jesus’ tears. David meant something to me, there, then, And I could drive through life now, first time, When before I only managed to walk, crawl, And struggle with him, an unknown variable. We parted, and I knew what he would say, “I’ll visit you again when you are eighty-five!” Smiling and waving he exited the gate, shut, And I knew joy and understanding unlike. I’m so happy that David is a real friend, I wouldn’t have it any other way for gold, Because in befriending him before time, He’ll be a different person to interact with. Bereavement is a process and occasion, But you can determine its time-span, length, By calling death physical, exactly what it is, By knowing you won’t see your friend again. The church removes death from the personal, By encircling Jesus death as personal to each, When David claimed to be personal to me, id, To visit me one special time, our day, our say. Rhoda Monihan