The death chronicles 

Dear Death

You come wrapped in different parts I discover 

It hurts Dear Death 

Considering you over another 

For whilst fond of sleep 

There will be no more dreams

I will only cease to feel

The brittle lisp of trying to walk in keeping with all the happy souls who stave off doing your bidding

As i blunder toward the front of the line

Trying to fast forward our cessation 

A voice asks me

Why do you not appreciate life?

I could never explain 

Born with a hole in myself 

No amount of repair sewed together 

The pieces of me I needed to prosper 

Thriving is not innate

Some do not know how to face


They exist in absentia

Behind walls and inside boxes

So much time can pass and you wouldn’t even know

They could be your sad faced neighbor

Cutting herself with the paring knife

Getting blood on the salad leaves

Passing it off as beetroot

She drowns herself in every bath

Swallows all the pills in the cupboard 

Gases the garage 

Throws knives at her running figure

To strike out that tumour 

Though it grows

Defeating her

Gnawing her defense to dust

Can you not understand?

The sorrow of those who 

Fall short of finding reason

Staring at high bridges

Wanting the pain to stop 

They let go

22 thoughts on “The death chronicles 

  1. Living is expensive and yet life it seems is cheap….. The smallest act of obedience is better than the best of intentions.We can look into the eyes of some of the most desperate people in the world and around us-.and not even notice the pain and desperation it brings. A darkness so black that it consumes you completely. We only need the faith to believe that we can make a difference in some ones life. Faith is dead to doubts, dumb to discouragement,blind to impossibilities and knows nothing but success. It starts with me ! Thank you !

  2. Goodness, this is powerful.

    This is especially striking:
    “Cutting herself with the paring knife
    Getting blood on the salad leaves
    Passing it off as beetroot”

  3. Having once stood in such a dark place, wanting to befriend death, this was a painful read. How I want to tell the narrator that those holes we imagine we have are only shadows, and we live in a world filled with light if we only dare to crawl toward it.

  4. Thank you so much! Members of my family have let go. I pray for them to have found the peace solace they could never find here. As one who falls short of finding reason, you once again go beyond touching my heart. Thank you!

  5. I wonder how many if not all at one time or another have not stood on the precipice over looking the abyss, almost ready to lean in, take the fall, and end the pain? But the thought that ending personal pain would in turn create pain for others was the deal breaker? What a gift you have! I’ve decided to call your gift a heart and soul paintbrush because your words so accurately paint a picture of what one’s heart and souls feels.Je t’aime! 🙂 ❤

  6. A voice asks me

    Why do you not appreciate life?

    I could never explain

    Born with a hole in myself

    No amount of repair sewed together

    The pieces of me I needed to prosper

    Mind blown! Another favorite poem of mines by you.

    I can relate so much to this. Excellent writing.

  7. The passion in your words floors me. There are so many lines I can relate to but, “The sorrow of those who fall short of finding reason”, these words hit home

Comments are closed.