One day we will be dead,
and we can't believe it
- not even when we walk
among the tombs
hiding generations.
There lie in the soil thousands
of people whose minds
told them 'You are immortal!
You can't die! Others,
yes - but not you!'
on each day of their lives
and all of them gone,
all of them bones and dust.
Not even when we
come upon the names
of those we knew,
those we loved
and who loved us,
can we accept
that death is our fate.
We see their names,
read the dates
we can't forget,
we know they are there
deep in the ground,
what in matter remains
of all their years.
Yet we still
hear that voice in our mind
telling us
of our own immortality,
of a life without an end;
a siren's promise
that there will never be days
to which we won't awake.
This comforting madness
of humanity -
this inner, unshaken belief
that we shall have
more than reason
and experience will allow;
is it what allows us
to get through our lives,
every dreary day
and sleepless night,
keeps our legs firm
to stand on the graves
hiding our kin and friend,
beget more people
to suffer the same?
Do we need to be mad
to live when
we have been
condemned to death;
inmates on Death Row
from our first breath,
spending each day
telling the kind
prison guards -
pityingly shaking their heads -
that we will be pardoned,
while watching others
being led to the noose?
12.09.2019
#Poem #Poetry #Poems #Verse
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