Followers

Tuesday 28 February 2012

PASSOVER, DEATH and PAST FORM


The recent death of a colleague's relative at an early age (in this modern world), prompted a recollection of a period in my life when mortality was at the forefront of my mind. The death of my mother, at 49, when I was 28, knocked me for six and though her death was expected (over several years), her final descent was shocking in its rapidity. I had learned, by that time in my life, that to "dump" emotions onto a page; as a poem or "non-poem", could be both surprising and cathartic, and that a page could be a non judgemental friend, an emotional mirror and a generator of inner calm. At this time, religious themes were present, though I have always regarded myself as agnostic.

The following words are from that period ......


PASSOVER

In all life there is death,
in all death life.
In life the fear of death,
in death the death of fear.
God's speed.


DEATH

The inevitability
of the blind-date with death
is a man's solace in life
a final escape
to a permanent engagement
and marriage in the house of God.
















PAST FORM

If I die before I live,
bury me not in vain:
for I've had my chances,
loves and romances.
But passed them all away.
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1 comment:

  1. On PASSOVER: I often think fear of death is a fear of life. Does it mean that a blind date with death is a fight with life? Or a date with life?

    I have every loss in my life put into words as poems. Working on analysing own feelings this way, and arranging them in words on paper, also arranges them in my inner self. It works.

    Below the feeling of total loss when words won't come when they are needed. Take care.

    Emptiness


    The silent house
    it's mouth firm and shut
    the crying eyes
    the trails of tears
    can't beat the mourning sky

    The silent man
    locked up inside
    he tracks the tears
    counts empty bottles
    cuts words from yellow
    newspapers

    In random order
    it now says
    "evening chaos car prime-minister"
    He thinks this might become
    a masterpiece
    A lamenting poem about
    absolutely nothing.

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