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Open Poetry #47
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Death
| Open Poetry #47 |
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Death |
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Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California 
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Death In the hospital waiting room I lowered my head in prayer. When an ominous mist seemed to perfume The surrounding air in vast despair. I raised an eyelid to perceive What was befouling the corridor. What I saw I could not believe… Vilely gliding across the floor. A hooded man holding a scythe, I choked and gasped, then caught my breath… Glancing down at me, I couldn’t help writhe Looking upon the face of Death. Awestruck, I stumbled to me feet, Searching for something to say. A skeletal forefinger I found discreet, As, intently, he turned away. I knew this was to be a warning, Yet, somehow, was compelled to follow. I knew regret might await come morning, And all I’d have left to do was wallow. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, He headed straight to her surgery room. In the dank air behind him I realized This man was but a walking tomb. Almost mercifully he approached the table, His eyes gazing down to my love… As doctors flurried, trying to bring stable A heart they were losing track of. And as he put hands to her chest I started screaming and crying, All in life I ever held abreast, Alas, before me dying. ‘Twas then death again looked my way, And with a gentle wave of hand By Darkness I was swept away To dream in some shadowy land. I dazedly awoke, hours later, Face down on the waiting room floor… Got the room number from the operator And scurried on out the door. I rushed in to find her, set upright, In the comfort of her bed. I laughed, I cried, I held her tight, For, alas, my love was not dead. I tried to explain what I thought dream But, then, she gently hushed my lips – Looked full upon me, eyes agleam, ‘Spoke to me of his fingertips. He held her heart with a soft squeeze, Drawing the pain out of her soul, And with the death of her disease He then returned it to her, whole. His hands radiating warmth and healing, She noticed that his eyes had teared. But as she reached out to ease his feeling, Suddenly, he disappeared. Now I’m not sure why it is we saw What no others had seen that day. I’m not sure I comprehend Death’s law, But at least I understand his way. For I realize death’s misunderstood, Most live their lives fearing the knell. But for those who see Death’s purpose is good, Alas, Death may serve life as well. Michael Anderson But dreams — of those who dream as I, Aspiringly, are damned, and die EAP |
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| © Copyright 2011 Michael Anderson - All Rights Reserved | |||
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Took me on a strange ride and I'm still shaking my head and trying to dissect it. Everything has a purpose, even death, but death used as a rejuvenating source is difficult to grasp. I'll read it again in an hour or so and if I see something I missed now I'll come back and readjust my comments, Michael. ~* The saddest words of tongue or pen are the words It might have been.--John Greenleaf Whittier ~*~ |
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Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California |
Well, JP, my sister found this poem in her storage unit, in a binder of poetry I gave her way back in 1998. I can't clearly think back to the writing of it, to truly know what was going through my head then... I only know I was suffering from a life threatening illness at the time and was pretty sure I was done fore. In reading it I think I was trying to convince myself, or mayhap my family since I actually gave it to my sister, that good could somehow come from my passing... that the death of the family scourge might prove to be a healing balm to those I've touched and therefore infected... Either that or I was just on one good bender! Don't delve too deep into it... cause on this one I have no other real answers for you.  Michael |
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JL Member Ascendant
since 2004-04-01
Posts 6128Texas, USA |
A menagerie of death images as if it had life of its own, and as if it was passing in review for you in thought, dream, and reality. This is really thick with imagery and reflection. Nice write. JL Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul,and with all your mind. Love your neighbor as yourself. |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Michael, Michael, Michael... I wrote a poem long ago that I dared to share with my mother. I believe she found me writing it one day, back in the late '60's, and asked me about it. I had never shared my writing with her before. It may still be in my green spiral. I'm not sure. All I remember is her gasp, her face of fear, and I was sure even then, that I would never, ever write again. Uncommonly, the poem "came home" not too many years later to a beloved friend. When I heard of her passing, I saw my poem in my mind again, and I knew the face I had seen was hers. I stopped writing for a long while. I am glad that you've posted something of your youth, and are here! to talk about it.  |
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ebonygirl Member Elite
since 2011-07-14
Posts 2000California U.S.A |
There is always some renewal when one experiences death, appreciate your poem, ms. e |
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Lori Grosser Rhoden Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202Fair to middlin' of nowhere |
The ones we can't remember... there is something special about those...This is wonderful, I love the way you are thinking here. Thanks for sharing it. Lori |
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suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
He held her heart with a soft squeeze, Drawing the pain out of her soul, And with the death of her disease He then returned it to her, whole. His hands radiating warmth and healing, She noticed that his eyes had teared. We usually dread Death's coming so much we forget how often his touch relieves unspeakable agony. Here, he heals disease and we see his compassion... but perhaps that compassion is shown more often than we think. *S* With the title, I didn't expect a poem that would be so uplifting... you wrote such a wonderful surprise! *S* |
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Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California |
JL, yeah, I’m guilty of personifying Death. Been doing that for some years now. I used to obsess with my own death… then, after awhile I realized that he would rather have me one vital organ at a time, than all at once. So I don’t worry much about Death anymore. I realize I haven’t suffered nearly enough to expect him any time soon. K, thank you. I have tried many times to put the pen down permanently… Words can be a scary thing, especially when tied to emotion. I am glad your muses proved to be as stubborn as mine, in that regard. Ms. E, indeed. A grandfather dies… a child is born with the same looks and mannerisms. There is a process, and a renewing of life that could only be accomplished, or at least appreciated, through death. Lori, ‘tis my pleasure. Ruth, the twist on this that I think is being missed is Death was just what his name projects him to be to the disease. He did not heal the disease, he brought death to it, and thus, as a consequence the heart was perceived to us as healed. It’s almost as if Death had a choice… the disease or the girl. The “Valley Fever” disease I was suffering from at the time I wrote this was an incurable, living fungal infection in my lung. To remove it, there was a very high risk that the disease would enter my blood stream and from there would be free to attack any other organ in my body. If it were to attack the spinal column or brain it would be fatal. Because I have a weak immune system due to juvenile diabetes, the doctors refused to operate on me until I was coughing up so much blood each night that that it, in itself, was proving to be life threatening. I think I needed to believe at the time I wrote this that something, perceivably Death, could remove this disease from me without taking my life. In the end, the lung was removed, and my “healing” was termed miraculous by the doctors. Death claimed my left lung and, so far as I’m concerned, the disease with it, allowing for this. Personally, I think Death is just a big poetry fan.Michael |
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suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
I'm sorry Death claimed any part of you and especially such a major part... but if he had to take something from you, I'm so glad he took a lung and not your life! *S* And I like the thought of him as a poetry fan... especially if that will keep you safe! *S* |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
"It's not that I'm afraid of death--I just don't want to be there when it happens." Woody Allen I could probably hit you with one link to extensive reading on Woody Allen death quotes, but I think just one more will exemplify his progress towards peace with death: "Fear of death ... That's funny. I have that too. My dog has it. It's very common with living creatures." - the movie Anything Else (2003) I'm not trying to dismiss your point, I just discovered that the old platitude of Laughter As The Best Medicine is better than 20 mgs. of carefully buffered pain meds. (I laughed out loud watching his celebration of neuroses and my migraine disappeared.)  For a while.  You keep writing. I'll keep reading. |
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