When it’s here

 

 

When sick with flu,  Lord Death  feels all too near
it is indeed a sleep by will desired
Without distress nor shedding of a tear

 

  Perhaps our destiny has brought us here
 Those who ‘re   often truthful  are still liars
 At certain times we feel  the death dance near
In the dark, the demons seem to leer
As wrestlers now they throw us on the pyre
Show no distress nor shed a single tear

 

We won’t  inhabit life  in  subtle fear
We’ve been thrown and pinned onto barbed wire.
At evening  time we feel  our breath draw fire.

 

 
If only  those I loved   had  lingered  years
That I have been estranged in ruined choirs
Hiding my distress In sheets of tears

 

There is no rescue from these gnarled  briars
  Let God and nature   warm me with sun’s fires
Winter- tired and weary, death  lurks near
Greet the end quite calmly when it’s here.

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About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
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