Monday, July 5, 2010

If death could be
a book,
something we put down
when we're done;
a singular word
or sentence,
or anything involving
a period, not just commas,
not just the continual
opening and closing,
of the vowels --
if only death could be
a simple sound
echoing into silence,
dimming as
floating us
gently to the ground
where we could
all rest together.
Why must death
be separate.
Why must death
be insistent.
Why can't death
be still.

1 comment:

Tim Shey said...

Death of self is the still point of the turning world.

Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it will not bear fruit.