Death

I felt nothing Meeting his body Shrunk, motionless A log, plastinated by white enshrouding cloak I felt nothing Trailing this log to its final abode Six feet under I felt nothing As the planks decked over Cracking out darkness From the bright sunny day I felt nothing As the red earth shoveled over Levelling all but the mound of grave marker I felt nothing Walking away Leaving him to the truth he found Is it peace or serenity; torment or nothing? Is it eternal or transient; selective or uniform? Truth which still elude us I felt nothing Save an eerie self-questioning A constant asking If this is how death feels: Raw nothingness Minutes rolled into hours, hours rolled into days Every moment themed by flashes of memory Breaking out from the past Memories striking of what remained of resentment And anger Now I know That death isn’t an event or a moment but a lingering sense of loss And now I know That death is a warm spring of nostalgia Sneaking up on the stream of thought And now I know That death is a flood of nothingness Smothering the rough edges of grief And now I know That death is a rite of passage An ascent into sorrow

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Beata Agustin

Date: 5/1/2025 11:34:00 PM

Thanks for sharing this... exposing your thoughts through your unique poetic style. Meanwhile, I greet you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Be blessed.