I Remember Death

dark past poem

I Remember

They make no sense; my memories 

They flicker like a candle flame.

Mere phantom childhood fantasies?

Or should they bear another name?

Confusing and yet comforting,

They make me who I am.

Collecting time; a foolish thing

My past an earthen dam? 

Pecking like blinded chick

The wall of dirt begins to slide

A time bomb's warning tick

now pounding deep inside.

 I can not stop it's just too late 

ancient wheels begin to turn 

the creaking of a rusty gate;

the lid twisting from an urn.

Misty threshold calling 

I leap through the open maw

yesterday appalling,

Or delight at what I saw.

Laying face up toward the sky

A baby wrapped in red 

Now I wish my past a lie

My birthday is for the dead. 

Nameless faces come to claim me

From slimy ruddy muck,

Death child is what they name

but aloud they just say luck. 

Author's Note

be kind and helpful

Reviews

[Rita L. Sev]

"Collecting time; a foolish thing..." We do this, torture ourselves with our memories. This is a darkly vivid write, and thought-provoking. Great rhyme and flow to the piece - well done!