Written for the (fictional) series, "Edges".
Her Voice
Still Coming For You
Her Voice
Still Coming For You
How is it that they who are younger
leave sooner? And look older, too,
for years before they go. The loud call,
"Look, I've decided I'm elderly now"
must be attractive to waiting Death.
I'm not opening my mouth to say
any such reckless thing! If children
play unheeding, and my vow as guardian
is that they be safe and free of worry,
this means I too must remain safe.
How proudly so many
march over the precipice,
wowing each other with their daring –
or in some cases resignation –
as if there was no crash at the bottom.
The possibility of Death, it appears,
cows no-one. Do they think they'll go
in a blaze, a shower of beautiful sparks
like an exploding rocket ...
not grasping how fast it burns out?
We who are left plough the ash
back into the earth. At least it's good
for something. New crops come up.
Clown-faced scarecrows keep guard.
This poem is a crystal: it sees what I am silently screaming these days. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteThis time through, I am more focused on "I too must remain safe." Good stuff.
DeleteIndeed very relevant writing....death is always somewhere around....waiting.
ReplyDeletelike an exploding rocket ...
ReplyDeletenot grasping how fast it burns out?
... even at our worst negative moments, we think death will come gently... who know what it has in mind.
Love the fierceness of her tone, her outrage towards an attitude she seems to think almost ridiculous. And I don't blame her. Yes, death is coming for all of us, and we shouldn't live fearing it every minute, still... we should never forget the loss this will represent for those left behind (fertilizing possibilities and all).
ReplyDeleteThe clown-faced scarecrow added just the right touch to this memento mori
ReplyDeleteFor me, Lady Death Is a lover that is waiting patiently for the last dance, knowing her time will come. As part of the life cycle, all must experience.
ReplyDeleteIt seems as though death doesn't wait for anyone anymore these days.. sigh..
ReplyDeleteIndeed...we take death for granted - or perhaps its horror makes us block it out. A good write..one to make one think.
ReplyDeleteFight to the bitter end I say, why waste even one minute! OK, I'm a grandfather but where are my Great Grandkids?
ReplyDeleteThese lines spoke to me, Rosemary:
ReplyDelete'We who are left plough the ash
back into the earth. At least it's good
for something. New crops come up.
Clown-faced scarecrows keep guard.
Death withdraws, murmuring, "Later".'
But the clown-faced scarecrows are so scary!
She is most faithful. When it is time, she will be there, have no fear!
ReplyDeleteOh, this is really good. There are days when i feel its breath on my face. I especially love the clown faced scarecrows.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad I'll be good for something after I'm dead and gone: fertilizer! In these soul-crushing days it's difficult to see how I can be of use at all.
ReplyDeleteA profound write
ReplyDeleteThis is absolutely stunning...it's so true that we each decide whether we're old or young, regardless of our "earth age". Where I live, I know many people in their 70s and 80s who are the most youthful, vibrant people I know. Your poem is so beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThe ones who announce I am older....brrrr. give me the shivers. Give me the ones who age gracefully and naturally with white in their hair and wrinkles. Who stand against death until the last breath. An excellent write Rosemary. But I will avert my eyes from those scary clown faced scarecrows.
ReplyDeletethe nostrils of death flare when least expected, I wonder who will plough the ashes so something of goodness will grow from the stench.
ReplyDeleteBoy--I just love this piece! Just speaks to me!
ReplyDeleteYUP!
ReplyDeleteZQ
Sigh...a strong poem.
ReplyDeleteA truly unique read with an impactful tone. Some young people do not value their lives.
ReplyDeleteit's scary, Death withdrawing, murmuring "later". but he (she?) will come again...
ReplyDeleteyour third & fourth stanzas remind me of the myth of the lemmings leaping over cliffs to their deaths.
I read all the other comments before writing mine. I agree with Robin i have a grandchild where's my great grandchild. Guess i am more greed for life than death.
ReplyDeleteMuch🌺love
Me too. And I think my protagonist in this poem does, also.
Delete