Terminal station

Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them. George Eliot

Sights are flashing by and out of the eyes

in wide angles they lay, in evening dreams

they will stay, as images fly away, so it streams

to the end, while melting into darkening skies

 

as the train on his way to the following day

and later there’ll be nothing more as it was

and fast, so terribly fast, no time for a pause

in the sound of a moaning there’s a little prayer

 

so close together and still chained in a lace

the shackles between them are not easy to break

in the shadows there’s a fluttering pace

 

in the heart, in the breath there’s a final quake

the last stop, a ticket to buy, a resting place

on the end of a one-way street, we will wake.

 

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere

11/04/2015

 

Author's Note

Also on my blog

http://lejaeghererudi.blogspot.be/

Reviews

[RiverRei]

This is lovely. It gives a comforting feel to death and how each of us passes in our own time. I'm used to reading poems about death that are dark and depressing or sad, but you are able to capture it with a sense of peace. I love the picture of a train and the last stop and the end of a one-way street signifying it's your time to go. Thank you for sharing this wonderful piece with me :)

[Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere]

Thank you also for your kind words. I'm so glad you like this sonnet. :) Rudi

[....................]

The journey to death, written so eloquently. Your words brought a tear to my eye this morning, Rudi, especially that final stanza. I hope our own journeys to that final resting place is as peaceful as you have demonstrated here. Bravo!

[Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere]

Thank you, FT, for the nice remarks and indeed, I hope so too. :) Rudi

[Ansley Authentic]

Undoubtedly profound,a remarkable portrait displayed.

[Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere]

Thank you so much, Ansley, glad you like it. :) Rudi