I remember myself dying.
I was sitting beside a lake,
suddenly a canoe approached,
a figure riding cloaked in black,
he takes slow, methodical, steps.
A hood keeps me from viewing him,
but I can hear his hissing breath,
as he walks his way toward me.
Others around. They can’t see him,
and now I am frozen with fear.
A bony hand reaches towards,
and I was helpless to resist,
as he delivered death to me.
Poetry
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This is so haunting and I love it. I loved how personified Death, perhaps even a grim reaper, is in the story. Despite the sad and scary nuance of death that casts the poem, the title of the poem itself is a defiance. Because in order to remember something, one must be alive, or at lease have the conscience to remember, and to be alive post death, or even in death, is a beautiful imagery or revival and renewal. Lovely work as always!
Thank you for your great feedback and for reading. It always makes my day when I know someone likes a piece. I’m also glad you caught the hope in the poem. That’s actually the primary feeling I get from it despite the overt creepiness, so it makes me happy to hear you say that. Thank you sincerely! 🙂