Warning: This is not meant to be a happy poem!

[birgitta_nell@y]

Face of Death

Little child, why do you peer into the face of Death?
What do your tired eyes see as they travel towards Eternity gates?
You cannot know, surely of Deaths’ hands:
Those long icy fingers that slither silently around your throat…
You cannot have seen his smile:
Such an evil broad leer of meaningless epitaphs and fading empty memories…
Little child, you cannot have beheld his cold eyes:
From the darkest pits of despair his pupils reflect mocking tombstones
Swimming eternally in massive vast labyrinths of non-existence!

Think! Dear child, I implore you!
What could you see in such a wicked face that would seem endearing?
Your tired heart and mind seek to rest, little child,
Your bleary eyes crave the sleep of Oblivion, - not the envelope of Death.
In your secret mind you want to be free of the life you struggle so to carry,
Flying upon sweet Clouds of Acceptance, away from the Mountains of Loneliness;
A life drastically altered, not a life extinguished by Death.
Little child, close your eyes, look away from Eternity’s light,
Your time has not yet come to be free,
You must still walk forward in resolute silence,
Wait little child, just wait.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Well, it is very much as promised! - NOT a happy poem. I am reluctant to think of the circumstances that provoked it.

[ctalerico]

Ditto. But I hope the expression of it in verse has been a positive exploration.

[qimissung]

You display a very strong ability to use images and language. This is a profound and mature work. I like it. Well done.

[firefangled]

Your handling of the long lines is excellent. The repetition of the term "little child" worked very much to make this very sad indeed. I think it is very well done.

[blazeofglory]

Face of Death

Little child, why do you peer into the face of Death?
What do your tired eyes see as they travel towards Eternity gates?
You cannot know, surely of Deaths’ hands:
Those long icy fingers that slither silently around your throat…
You cannot have seen his smile:
Such an evil broad leer of meaningless epitaphs and fading empty memories…
Little child, you cannot have beheld his cold eyes:
From the darkest pits of despair his pupils reflect mocking tombstones
Swimming eternally in massive vast labyrinths of non-existence!

Think! Dear child, I implore you!
What could you see in such a wicked face that would seem endearing?
Your tired heart and mind seek to rest, little child,
Your bleary eyes crave the sleep of Oblivion, - not the envelope of Death.
In your secret mind you want to be free of the life you struggle so to carry,
Flying upon sweet Clouds of Acceptance, away from the Mountains of Loneliness;
A life drastically altered, not a life extinguished by Death.
Little child, close your eyes, look away from Eternity’s light,
Your time has not yet come to be free,
You must still walk forward in resolute silence,
Wait little child, just wait.l That is how we proceed, waiting and waiting endlessly. Beautiful and full of something in a world rife with violence.