To a stranger who has died -
Money is nontransferable;
That the Egyptians tried -
The kings - they're unconsolable
But I know some things that follow:
A reputation that's admirable;
Fame - too - worth much in gold
As well as a pretty caricature.
Others will take their talents
And I - by history’s sieve -
Will take - cheating prognosis -
My poems with me when I leave.
Death, to me, is a stranger;
I know not his whereabouts.
I’ve seen him but haven’t heard –
I know of him but we’ve not met.
He spoke at length with my elder
And convinced him to go.
I got to say good-bye before
He left, but of Death, I don’t know.
He seems so popular among
Celebrities – distant and queer.
With the sickly, too, he throngs –
Too important to come here
Although once, without persistence –
Death did rap upon my door.
I was busy – I did not answer
So he left a calling card.
My spirit cannot be bridled
For it is as wild as fire -
As innocent as a child
And in secrecy, has desires.
My body cannot contain it -
No, because of how strong I am -
All that my spirit resonates
Could fill an entire room.
I may die and not be missed;
Lest people forget with one accord
That I left behind good remnants -
I will come and haunt that void.
Jesus stole him from me;
A cleft of my heart went
With my beloved to grand company.
Shock distracted the void –
Grief befriended melancholy
And I tagged along, I admit.
Anger pulled – whispered of mortality –
I regroup my senses
But still, it finds me.
Thank God, forgiveness was created
For also this exigency.
Neither one waiting at the bend
Nor stationed upon the hill
Was present to make offense
Or entertain some evil will.
A breeze came, another went -
Rattling the bursages
As a creeping serpent
Going into hiding does.
If I died right here -
How many lonesome clouds -
How many foraging birds
Would pass by before I was found?
Would the beloved sun
Care to kiss me good-bye?
Would the angels of the canyon
Guide me on my flight?
They tell me that I perished
But I've never felt more alive
And the warmth of your presence
Still lingers in my mind.
I ventured longer than an arm -
Beyond the dim horizon -
Further than a murky quasar
Yet less than a prayer's span.
When you stop to think of me -
When tears can't help but fall -
Know that it's okay to grieve
And let them wash your soul
Then look up and say a prayer -
Since words have power of flight -
I'll catch it at heaven's shore -
Think of you - smile and sigh.
How does it feel
To have the overarching
Angel of Death looming over you?
I know her intimately.
A Solicitous anxiety
You feel ?
No . No..No... Smug fool.
No more solicitous for you
Than a fitted pine box.
I presage no redemption
For your birthright in Heaven.
You sold that long ago.
The World you leave a mess
Means nothing
To the Angel of Death.
She just came to end yours.
