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