Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Death stalks me like a secret lover

Death stalks me like a secret lover

whom I cannot reveal

to anyone

I dread his intrusion into my thoughts

Yet seek him out compulsively

to know where he is at all times

to assure myself he is not here

not now

not yet


My counselor tells me

Never say never

Never say always

Never deal in absolutes

Never can know at all times

Yet Death will resolutely be absolute

when he comes into our pleasant country

and my beloved leaves for longer than a season


I will wonder

Where shall I live now

How will I know what year it is

When will sleep gather me into its arms

How will I be Me anymore


I’m told

Time is the true physician

It heals everything

I used to know that truism

until it stopped being true

when Death came into your country.

1 comment:

Everyday Mysteries said...

Very powerful poem. I like the image of death as a secret lover. It is such an intimate thing, isn't it? -- and even revealing him, one can't really reveal him. The rest of the world is outside the experience.

And the disorientation of Death's visit is so beautifully captured as well.