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Death


Eyru

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We are so unacquainted with death

We know him only in cold hallways

We meet him only in dim rooms

Or under fluorescent lights

His name is not spoken at weddings

We do not sing his songs

Even a funeral is a celebration of life

...

But this should not be so

Death is written into our genes

As much a part of us as our fingernails

Even this drumbeat in my chest keeps time

Marking the steps in my dance

Towards the only one who waits

With open arms.

***

The first line of this poem came to me while I was standing in a hospital. I looked down at the ugly tiled floors and squinted against the harsh lights and wondered at how we run from death. It's something we try not to think about; it's something we avoid speaking of unless absolutely necessary. While some cultures may have a more cordial relationship with death, North Americans definitely do not. The only time we allow ourselves to dwell on death is in hospitals, in graveyards, and on those deep summer nights when we surround ourselves with friends and dare to think, for a moment, about the incredibly fragile nature of life.

 

But death is a part of life. It's the other side of the coin. A corpse isn't something to be afraid of: it's the still, quiet conclusion of the story that began with a baby brought, red and crying, into the world. Every prologue needs an epilogue; every beginning needs an end. It's not scary: it's the way it's meant to be.

 

Just some thoughts I had today in a hospital.

 

-E

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You have a gift with words. That was beautiful, and thought provoking. That first line is just so incredible, and the message is so true, and the ending wraps it up completely.If I'm to critique, and really I should try or this post is rather pointless, my only (very minor) complaint would be the line about the funeral- saying "a" funeral breaks what I saw as the rhythm of the piece. That's just a personal preference though, so take it with a grain of salt, and know that it didn't impact my enjoyment of the piece.For something that just came to you, this is absolutely inspired. Keep writing, I'd love to read more. You have a gift.

Well, would you just look at that?

 

bread.gif

 

I'm a piece of toast.

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  • 1 month later...

It's a crime that this hasn't gotten more recognition. But I guess part of its beauty is how it goes unnoticed like its subject. Now I can feel like a hipster by saying it's among my favorite poems. :P As a recent victim of hospitalization, I thought some of these same thoughts (though the injury was nowhere near-fatal :) ) and this poem explored the topic expertly, capturing the essence of finality in 90 words. The afterword was easy to appreciate and reigned in my thoughts perfectly. In conclusion, thank you for this piece. It gave me something meaningful to think about.

BZPRPG Profiles

IC:

"It comes with the job," Halfimus explained, "I'm not paid enough to give anything outside quick flavour descriptions."

So pay me more AuRon.

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