Beckoning Death
Heartbroken, the lover writes:
“Oh beckoning death, I welcome thee with open arms,
free me from the pitiless pain of a hurting heart.
Relentless sadness through every pore does seep,
burning and tearless, eyes, unendingly weep.
My ‘Love’ has left; my life-force gone,
Love’s scythe has cleaved my soul sure and deep.”
Consoling, the friend replies:
“Through sadness, hurt and such anguished pain,
through words of blood does sorrow speak….
is born a poem that wrenches the reader’s heart.
We have the ability to absorb grief
and we learn to live with our pain,
for life is for living, and live we must,
for tomorrow is but another day.”
Parting at death is so final in its physical expression. At that instant, it is as though somebody else takes over within you. Mind’s mechanism to inure against grief? Soon enough that anaesthetic wears off. Then anguish of loss manifests itself into words….
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