Monday, October 18, 2010

Brush With Death

Skin so taut that it no longer wrinkles.
We gather around, he lies apart.
Meat on bones consumed, to nourish
Brimming soul and aching heart.
He withdraws so apparently,
Inching back in sight of me,
Shaming my sense of trust.
I fumble comprehension
Of an end that’s so unjust.
He didn't get the chance to rust.
I hope that my appreciation
Of this life we're blessed
Returns and sweetens with rest.
But bitterness prevails today,
Rich and blameless, foggy grey,
Each passing day
Relieves my helplessness.

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