Wednesday, February 13, 2019

We Die A Thousand Deaths, It Seems...


this poem?...when Realization hit a-fresh
how life is filled with daily deaths...
and it is futile to clench the fist 
where what we hold dissolves like mist
and what we cherish will fall prey
to the vast world of yesterday
So, pray the Lord to fix our trust 
Beyond this shadow-land of dust
(or as the case is right now; ice and snow!)




We die a thousand deaths, it seems
In death of days and death of dreams
The glory-tide of morning sweeps
Across time’s shore to phantom deeps
And draws upon its deadly wave
Footsteps that haste toward the grave

Love learns to let go as it clings
To tender ties of frayed heart strings
Where echoes, like coloured balloons
Bob across long-lost afternoons
And wake within this wisp of breath
A tug-of-war-twixt life and death

…where breadwinner and beggar meet
And barter on a common street
Where hunger chimes beneath the skin
Of rich and poor, like next of kin
Where what is will soon fade and lie
Like shadows when dusk dims the sky

…and life, for all its wish and whim
And love for all its verve and vim
Trembles within a fragile frame
That soon returns from whence it came
Where, with the breath of days and dreams
We die a thousand deaths, it seems

© Janet Martin


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