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Life and Death

Posted by picklewheeze , 16 April 2013 · 15 views

Any thoughts welcome.

Is it possible to consider life without death?
Without death
There’d be no end to great wars
No fight for freedom

How can a man find comfort?
Comfort in peace
In the death of a loved one
And go on existing?

The only difference between life and death
Is breathing
It is our one task

If a man was to sit for his whole life breathing,
Would that be worthwhile?

I watched the life drain out of her.
Piece by piece I watched her leave.

I watched her mind steal the laughter from her lips,
The words from her tongue,
The love from her hands,
The safety from her arms.

I watched the fear drive her,
The hopelessness set in.

She would have begged,
Could she have,
For death to take her.
To let her back with her mind.
For us to let her go.

I watched her as she died.
A woman so great and powerful in my eyes reduced to nothing.

I wanted her struggle to stop,
She had fought for us for so long.
She needed to rest, in peace as they say.

She looked so small
She was just breathing, that was all.

I held her as she slowed down,
As her breathes grew farther and farther apart,
As death crept in and stole the colour from her face.

I watched her last breathe.
I watched her stop.

That was it,
The end.

The only difference between life and death was breathing.

I will carry the burden of that night forever.
I wonder now,
What struggles she carried with her?

I find it hard to picture her now,
In a different place.
I feel only as though she has gone,
I have lost her.

She’s out of my reach now.

I believe it is not simple irony,
When a man chooses to hang his head in a noose.
To cut the air from his lungs.

He is trapped in that noose,
As he was in life.

Only now,
He doesn’t breathe.

The rope clenched around his windpipe,
Finally separating the pain in his chest,
From his fragile mind.

It is often only when you get to that river,
The place you have pictured for so long,
That you realise just how far there is,
Between you and the water.

Your feet on the edge of the bridge,
And the centimetres look like miles.

Sometimes you have to hold the gun,
Taste the metal in your mouth.
Before you realise how cold and far away it is.

It’s not what you want,
To die,
You want to escape.
To find freedom.

It is nothing on this earth that collars you,
It is your own mind.
The greatest entrapment.

The box you so greatly want to smash to pieces.
To scatter the wood out to sea
And let the contents whistle away in the wind.



what a fantastic poem!!!!
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picklewheeze
Oct 25 2013 05:46 PM
Really delayed but thanks maggiel :)

July 2014

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