by Dawn Pisturino
Time passes and then we're gone,
A lump of clay once laughing, laughing no more;
Discarded to the open grave to feed a hungry earth;
A useless, lifeless thing
Long-forgotten in the changing years
But a simple name inscribed on stone;
Unrecognized in the awful pile
Of crumbling clay and mouldy dust.
"And where is the sun to warm my aching bones,
And the moon to flame my lover's ardour?
Where is the wind breathing in my ear,
And the life-giving drops of rain?"
Eyes close, and tender hearts stop beating.
So still, so still the cold black earth (a silent void)
Without the living sounds of hot-blooded life.
Stars fade with life's end;
The coffin lid drops with solemn finality;
And Death remains, cold and intractable,
Yielding not a single ray of light.
Lost to darkness, unseeing, unfeeling wreck
Of human flesh, groping in the dark
For solidness and material comfort!
"I shall not comfort thee;" -- and Death hovers over,
Unwanted guardian in our final tribulation.
The soul cries out in black despair: "Lord, take me!"
March 4, 1987
Won GOLDEN POET AWARD 1987, World of Poetry
Published May 18, 2012 on Danse Macabre du Jour.
Copyright ©2011 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
