A poem for the dead
by Sarah
(London)
Mortality is...
Only a clock ticking in an empty room
A downward spiral of uneven steps
An abandoned child curling up in the dark
A laugh,
A lie,
Or an extinguished spark.
They say that which remains will sing of your life
When all you ever felt was frustration and strife.
The photographs they took, all moments in time
They told you to smile,
so you had to mime.
So we shed a tear for those who depart
Only ourselves to blame for our faintness of heart.
Instead we should celebrate what it has been-
A fight to the death,
Which was mostly unseen.
