A poem

A poem

Silence like a cancer grows

No longer in pain

 Death – it is something all

experiences when life has become only a

memory;

 

The soul leaves when it knows

that it can fight no longer.

 

At peace – asleep; that is how he looks

at the first glimpse from the

naked eye.

 

The motion of air circulating

through the lungs, however –

it can not be seen.

 

Silence – not even the wings rubbing

together from the cicada can be heard;

as nature knows not to make a sound – a moment of silence for the

deceased.

 

I wrote this poem five years ago.

It’s funny, I hadn’t actually seen a real dead body before when I wrote this, but at Vian’s funeral he actually did look asleep and finally at peace.

-M

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