The essence of death lingers

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The essence of death lingers

 

The skeletons rattle their bones to wake all of the dead poets teetering on the fence.

I saw in your eyes that tired-of-life pagination of thoughts scrambling to crossover,

And the sting of death happened:

Thinking we are born to die,

Of stereotypes of creepy trees, dark skies, hands from graves and ghostly figures mistaken for

sheets.

I smile of knowing.

Your essence pulls me from humanity’s grave that rejoices of those departed and of those who

will.

The dead with their bony fingers begin to write on the chalkboard of the living, leaving a

tattered flesh behind regurgitated by rote.

Echoing messages not borrowed but taken by the kindness of the invisible.

Your words breathe heavily as your fingers spark to that which transcends arbitrary language

behind a language of knowing.

And yet you continue to whisper messages in a bottle to the living who will listen.

A myriad of tales with so little words-so much meaning.

Red light mystic-they wish us to see.

Energy resonance.

You left me a lingering you.

Documenting a life transcending a wisp of goose bumps.

A flame of another birth rises like a phoenix from the ashes to prepare you to rest a little

while longer,

To see you through the door of the living once again.

I will hold the lantern for you.

“Welcome to the other side.”

 

 

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33 responses to “The essence of death lingers

  1. Poignantly touching tale of the agonizing despair of loss and separation. I know my story is not the same kind of loss as that of your partner, but I feel I share it. My father died abruptly when I was a teenager, and I was devastated as were my mother and my two younger sisters. And the pastor at our church told me I had to put my grief on hold as I was the oldest child and must therefore be “strong” for my mother and sisters. Being the obedient child that I was, I put my grief on hold and like any wound that’s not allowed to heal it began to fester. And because I was so young and perhaps was in denial, it seemed almost unreal that he had died. So for years, I kept thinking I’d round a corner and there he’d be or I’d enter a room and there’d he’d be and on and on. Meanwhile all the while the hold that had been put on my grieving was festering more and more. And yes it became the smell of death that lingered and lingered, until it along with other trials, I had to seek help. I was blessed to have a wonderful mentor and with her help and guidance I finally accepted the finality of it and grieved my profound loss. That was 50+ years ago and I just saw something on TV that reminded me once again of my dad but this time the tears did not flow. But I know that the tears will fall again at games. We do survive such profound and painful losses, but we never ever forget the sting of it. The scab that forms somewhere inside can be knocked off or open up enough to bleed again. So there is hope that the smell and sting will lessen over time. Love and hugs, Natalie 🙂 ❤

    Liked by 4 people

    • Yes I know about putting grief on hold. I had to to survive. Had to sell the house, Gave 2 cats up for adoption and the other one I had to be put to sleep. Had to find a place to live. Packing up a big house getting rid of stuff to downsize and the lost of 9 friends on top of that. I did not grieve until recently. I think it is important to grieve and for the men it is not shameful to cry. At present I am doing soft grieving which is OK. I have accepted the death. And now I know my life will move in a different direction. Too much lost in a short period of time. Be well and stay well my friend

      Liked by 3 people

  2. Unless one stands at the side of a loved one and see’s their transition from one state of being to another.. You will not see it is only we who are left in the hollow of our sadness ,

    You see Joseph and Know that rising again

    You poem eloquently explores the the bereft state those left behind feel.. While we know that door is but a threshold we all cross as we hold that lantern. Waiting upon our turn to walk through the door

    Such a beautiful poignant poem my friend.. And my heart goes out to you

    Sue x

    Liked by 1 person

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