Death, Imagined

A fantasy about what dying and death might be like.

I tread on soft green moss and cool pebbles, shadowed ‘neth the Weeping Willow trees.

Lingering fingers, I brush my hands over the white Lilacs’ lemon dust, aromatic sanctity.

 

I breathe in air so sweet and pure, and luxuriate in the filling of my lungs, fulfilled.

I gaze, as flies the dragon and the butter, dancing to the lofty trills of the Whippoorwill.

 

I shrug the clothes from my body, falling away as an afterthought on this mystical walk.

I indulge in easy rhythm of air and scent, as it roams free, wandering, my own skin, upon.

 

I come to an outcropping of great boulders, dressed in a hundred shades of silver and gray.

I rest my hand on these rocks, profound, as I feel their pulse and touch of warmth, assuaged.

 

I continue on this pathway, twirling in wonder, as joyful reverie seeps into my laughing feet.

I enter the opening between the Willows and neighborly blue Hyacinth, stepping indiscreet.

 

Before me, a tiny meadow lays yielding, rich green, a pasture made to lie down upon.

Beyond the grass is a river, slowly flowing south, shimmering magical in the now bright sun.

 

Flowers abound, encircling the meadow, and I gaze upon crimson Azaleas and Periwinkle vines.

Dripping are the Wisteria trees, golden Honeysuckle lianas, and climbing white Lilies, vastly refined.

 

I take my first step onto this divine pasture, gentle cooling arising between my toes, as I dance.

I make my way to the river, lying down on the edge of the spongy soft meadow, entranced.

 

The sun warms my body, as it eagerly shares its array of shining rays with the river, sparkling.

I reach out my arm to the channel, dipping my fingers into the crystal waters, tinkling.

 

I gaze in wonder as sparkles, river befriended, climb my fingers, encompassing hand, silkily.

There comes with this spreading, a shift, from earthly agony to unearthly and divine tranquility.

 

The healing water lends itself to me, as sparkles cover my entire body, calm within and out.

I rest in slumber, under that kindly sun, rays mixed with gleams, mirrored throughout.

 

My breathing slows, as does heart, while I join the river, flowing high, consecrated celestial.

I glance back one last time, whispering to the Willows, “weep for me no more,” ethereal.

Author's Note

If we could only dream true our fantasizing of how we will die...what that experience will be like...

Awards:

- Natures Wrath Contest, 1st Place

Reviews

[Emerald Seas]

I am speechless. This is such a deeply touching writing of death. I was afraid to read, as I thought I would start to cry (well shoot, now I am...). Lovely and uplifting, without fear... the stroll through the gardens full of such beauty, flowers of various colors and fragrances lining your path, and then to the waters edge for such a tranquil spot to rest and enjoy the wonders of nature, of earth as she moves on to heaven. A beautiful write!

[...]

Looks like I stumbled into some sheer magnificent poetry!!!!!!!!!! This was gorgeous :)

[Rick Puetter]

Dear Barbara,

This is a beautiful and tranquil piece. So beautiful. A wonderful write. Kudos.

"My breathing slows, as does heart, while I join the river, flowing high, consecrated celestial.
I glance back one last time, whispering to the Willows, “weep for me no more,” ethereal."

So Hindu in spirit. Joining the river. Yes, it is true, "'weep for me no more,' ethereal", for there is nothing for which to weep, now being one with the River.

Simply beautiful, Dear Lady.

Greatly enjoyed and highest marks!

Best regards,

Rick