A DEATH IN PANDEMIC
I’m dead
I’m gone
Sometime ago,
I’m lifeless now, unbreathing
Like a waste
In a black plastic jacket
They tried hard
They did everything what they could
Gave me pills injected infusions
Hooked me in ventilation
But I couldn’t make through
They did to the furthest
But no, I failed to conquer
Now I became a number
Of a long digit figure.
I saw the infected around me
I saw the doctors and nurses up and down
The whiteness of the hospital I saw
The masked terror walked unbridled I saw
Now I became a number
Of a long digit figure.
I’ll be unexposed
I’ll be buried
I’ll be cremated either
I’ll be destroyed with my viral enemy
For the sake of others
Now I became a member
Of a long digit figure.
When I was a newborn,
I had no experience to reassure me
my first gasp for air
would not also be my last.
Between that first second inhaled reassurance,
and now,
I have operated under a romantic assumption,
More clean and nurturing air will follow.
Now, I have enough post-romantic experience
to deter me
from assuming this next gasp
for healthy air,
for more time to listen for compassion
still surfing in and out
EarthMother's warm bath of nurtured reassurance
will not also be my ego's last.
My dramatic eco-memory's first romantic breath
now also echoes my last timeless moment
Fully
ecstatically re-investing
away from ego's autonomous wall
of lifetime erected identity
into a webbed forest's nutritional re-memory
faithfully resurrected again
not autonomous,
unpropertied
unincorporated
unbreathing
more than me.
And I hope I will not be troubled
or even distracted,
by all those competing for air time breaths
assuming falsehoods of ZeroSum economies
in-between first and last.
Promises
Your promises that I had all trust in
lay quiet as logs of unbreathing woods,
Till wantings of my soul rose as fierce storms
to impute life into the forgotten,
Today you walk with me in moonlit night
as longings lay absolutely tranquil.
Written May 27th, 2016
In Iambic pentameter
For contest by John Lawless
To create a life -
That is, to give breath to blank space,
Moving a pencil, leaving a trace
Releasing the word, only to strive
For even greater heights
Some may say, they found it in love
In a woman's gentle embrace
In which twin spirits soar dancing above
Finding their dual presence to be enough
Laying their talents to waste
Some find new life through the solace of making
Working and shaping the idea so rough
In a creature unbreathing and breathtaking
A piece of metal not sleeping but not waking
Even at those I can only laugh
It is in the end the truth that prevails
That touches our heart in the waste that surrounds
That creating new life through human hands fails
But in the ink of a book can be found
Are you not dead?
When did the unbreathing
started doing business with the living?
Or you resurected?
You died,i know you died
i saw your lifeless body
your hopeless eyes
looking directly to the halfed sun
without blinking.
You died,i know you died
people cried,my world ended with you,your mother danced in tears
rain fell,sun rose.....but your star did not shine
you died,i know you died
my head was shaved
with pinching blades of razor
i drank water used to bath your decaying body
it was tradition though
but i saw hell and i wished you heaven
i touched your lips
it was stucked wid sour blood
i poured sand on your giant wooden coffin
it was put into a shallow pit
i watched them cover you with earthen
i wanted to cry but my eyes was filled with emptiness
my hope was lost
i thought you can't die
you looked so strong,
so powerful,
you looked immortal
why?
Why did you have to leave yourself inside my swollen stomach
won't you call you father?
Your second begining will be painful than your first end....
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