When Death Comes

3-haresWhen Death Comes

It’s so far

from what

you expect

the difference

between a “heroic battle”

and

an actual blow

to the face.

The pain:

So blindingly

sharp

and vicious,

meant

to wound in a way

you will never forget,

change

how you breathe,

leave the hallow air

reverbrating

with shock.

Even when you know

it’s coming,

it arrives

out of nowhere:

so quick,

so uncalled for,

such a terrible

gulf

between before and after.

cranes

by Joyee Sidman ‘What The Heart Knows’

Illustration by Pamela Zagarenski

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5 Responses to When Death Comes

  1. Zorba says:

    Michael, I know that you are still hurting. We are all thinking of you.
    May you have peace, my friend.
    Love,
    Zorba

  2. robin andrea says:

    When my father died I read so many poems about death. I wanted to know every word written, so I could learn how to hold my grief and sorrow, so I could know where he had gone, so I could find him in every beautiful thing I saw. That love, that aching undying love is all we have. I once wrote a poem that had a line in it that was something like this– say his name, his beautiful name out loud, as holy as any prayer.

  3. Tara Crowley says:

    The “absolute absence” is indeed what it is. The mind reels….how can this be so? He was just here…breathing, talking, laughing, sleeping, loving. Flesh and bone and that amazing spirit. Trace. Beautiful Trace.

  4. rainnnn says:

    To me death is the great mystery and it blows my mind that the ones I have loved have gone on or not. I know when my mother died, I thought– now she knows. She went first. Except now I don’t know what I think about any of it. Except we who are left here suffer with the loss and it takes a lot time to get some kind of equilibrium. When it’s such an important relationship as you and Trace had, I suppose it never will be over as we like to think of over but it will hurt less. This loss was one that I think a lot of others felt with you even though we’d never met you both. *hugs*

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