The soul takes leave of the body,
half-mangled by life.
Sorrow sweeps over in waves,
rising to a crescendo,
then ebbs like the tide.
The grief remains,
like a dead weight
around one’s neck.
What is it about death
that leaves one
pensive or subdued?
Is it the pockets of absences,
the anguish of unspoken words,
or just the shocking
ephemerality of life?
Good poem pointing to the mystery of death
ReplyDeleteThank you Sir!
DeleteBeautiful poem! Captures the lingering numbness of death perfectly.
ReplyDeleteThank you Meenu ❤
DeleteEven when we are hanging on 'half mangled by life', there is something about death that stupefies and subdues you. Enjoyed reading it.
ReplyDeleteYou are right. It stupefies you...
ReplyDeleteMysterious one.. Enjoyed reading this one!
ReplyDeleteThank you Evania ❤
Delete