I Have A Problem With...

There’s a beauty to the act of dying;

A fulfillment

A circle completed

A circle complete

I watched a loved-one die once

It was peaceful

Of the dying

I have no complaint

It’s dead that gives me pause;

It lasts so long—

Never to be seen again

Or touched

Or heard,

Never to make another mistake

Or breathe another breath,

Never to know or learn or see

It’s been a year now

And I can’t accept it

It’s been a year now

And I still have a problem with dead.

About This Poem

About the Author

Country/Region: CAN

Comments

Candlewitch

18 years 1 month ago

I enjoyed reading your poem.

I enjoyed reading your poem. "There's a beauty to the act of dying," this line hooked me. I know it is true. I watched my Mother dying, and she was finally peaceful in those last few hours, after six months of mental and emotional pain. I can understand how, as you put it: "And I still have a problem with dead." I don't agree with it but I understand it, because I used to have that same problem a long time ago. But now, throughout my life I have come so close to being dead, so many times, that I no longer worry about it. Somewhere along the line I started to believe in reincarnation, and that really changed things. (Your poem inspired all these thoughts.) I’ll let you in on a little trick that I recently discovered; Use the “enter” key a couple of times, after your final line, as it will put a couple of blank lines (a nice space) between your last line and the technical questions which follow. Always, Cat

Alobar

18 years 1 month ago

Interesting, you had the

Interesting, you had the very problem with the poem that I feared: took the line "I still have a problem with dead," to be a reference to my own mortality, my own death. Not at all. I was trying to invoke the feeling of missing the departed--watching my mother die was a strangely beautiful experience, because I made it easier for her, because the entire family was there, pulled together by the event, etc etc., but now, alone at my desk, or in bed at night, all I can think is of dead, her being dead. That's what I was driving at, and now, upon re-reading, I see I have not conveyed that. Thank you for your comments--both personal and technical--they have sent me back to the drawing board... eventually.

poewriter58

18 years 1 month ago

you are correct

In saying that some would disagree with the experience of a non peaceful death , verses peaceful I've not seen a peaceful one as yet but I agree in the essence of the poem that it is the finality that gives us the problem your poem is well written in that it makes the reader stop and think about what they just read Chrys

Alobar

18 years 1 month ago

I have witnessed both a

I have witnessed both a tortuous death of pain and denial that dragged out over a six month spell, and another where yes there was terror and anger, but also pure acceptance, and eventually a peaceful letting go. The first was my father, who went insane, literally and truly. It was horrific to watch, and indeed, not peaceful. The second was my mother who said to me, "I don't want this to be long, drawn out or like your father's." She died about a week later, me by her side watching her breathing slow like a dripping tap having run the reservoir dry. I checked her pulse when the breathing had ceased and it merely wasn't there, she merely wasn't there. It was a peaceful death, and all of us--three children, loving friends--were deeply saddened by her passing but thankful she died so easily, and with such grace and acceptance. Thank you for your comments on my poem, I'm glad it had some effect. Like I said, I think it is deserving of a life beyond my own therapy (few I write for personal reasons do).

abrelosojos

18 years 1 month ago

very interesting look at

very interesting look at dying and dead. i have never seen anyone die so i do not know what it is like but both of my parents are dead so i can relate with you on the "dead" part ALOT. its hard but we survive. fragile things: take flight!