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Death Old Friend

Unsure, Apprehensive
Yet born to persevere throughout confusion,
Through fear he strides below two moons,
Some lonesome traveller confronted with anger
Wrings out his rags blood red, none spared for his victims.
He claims there’s no crime in a duel, a duet, a ballet,
Merrily he’s on his way, beyond the curtain call
Singing as he staggers, hoping to keep the wolves at bay.

Black milk skins wrapped in virgin linen.
She knows she must ride, that she must rise.
Seek out the spinners of the night,
Washerwomen wringing their rags in delight
Awaiting as they are the time to come when
Their souls may be released.

Death

Signalled out for us?
A certain time?
A certain place?

Are we to share our final moments with
A long since past familiar face?

Three days left for you, your shroud is waiting.
Can’t you hear them singing?
Spinning as they are throughout the night.

Run towards the canopy of some ancient revered willow
Have no disrespect for the harmonies of life,
It will only ever lead you into trouble.

Can you hear them singing?
Ringing bells in the springtime
Bearing witness to the reincarnation
Of our beloved mother the Earth.

Death, death old friend, death breeds life anew.

poem by David Lacey
Added by Poetry Lover
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