Living My Own Death

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I can tell you exactly when it happened. I was sat on one of those plasticy leatherette chairs. You know the ones, they have them in all hospitals, they're easy to wipe clean if someone has a little accident. I had my hand clasped about my wife's fingers and though I knew I was squeezing them too hard she didn't complain.

She, the doctor that is, or should I say consultant? Anyway, she leant in towards us and said, “I'm sorry, the cancer has spread.....

 

i died

the black grey storm clouds lifted from my eyes

and i knew every moment

was perfect

 

i lay

and a whispered movement of air caressed my dead skin

with a reflective hint

of realisation

 

i heard

the intoxicating warmth of existence in the absence

of my future want

of breath

 

i saw

the id of creation within the eternity of my son’s eyes

as he mourned

my passing

 

i touched

my lover with the corpse cold hand of my regret

recognising her beauty

and mine

 

i found

the treasures i had strived for and knew them for nought

empty and stagnant

as was i

 

i died

yet in my death never could be more alive

my resurrection was

too soon

 

.….I heard the soft sound of my wife sobbing beside me.

 

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Comments

Big Sal

Wed 18th Apr 2018 14:42

Beautiful work of art here. Keep it up.

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Jon

Wed 21st Feb 2018 20:12

Hi again Jacqueline
A stunning poem told from a unique viewpoint. Very touching.
Thanks for sharing
Jon

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John Marks

Sun 4th Feb 2018 20:53

A fine effort Jackie to convey the inexpressible! When you're told your death date (as I was) words fail you and you DO have a heightened sense of the blessing that is 'being alive'. I like your poems a lot. Keep writing! John

<Deleted User> (13762)

Thu 1st Feb 2018 08:19

a poem that takes one's breath away and transports us to a place we would rather not be, but where we know we will one day end up - a difficult subject which you have handled with care and skill Jacqueline. Thank you for sharing. Colin.

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