death

Fragile Life

Life’s fragility
Finds me today
I can’t support
Its sinking weight
Ashes to ashes
Dust to fate
I’m holding back
I’m giving way

In my consciousness
I confess
To better my life
To save the best
Now lay me down
To take my rest
From the clutter
And this mess

Happiness is as fleeting
As a sound
Life’s always waiting
To bring you round
Into sadness
To the ground
Leaving you to lie
With the hounds

Darkness will find you
In waiting turn
Repeating lessons
Repeatedly learned
Until feelings ripen
And start to churn
Searing your soul
Fearing the burn

Sacred Ground

by rrearick

It’s the end of an era the end of a time
Collateral sadness and honor combined

A time of reckoning of letting go

We grieve at a place our hearts fame
Sacred ground with pride proclaimed

Experiences fostered and left to grow

For the fell of life of those beloved
For the joy of life found and discovered

At a place where memories stow

We’ve walked these woods and water
Walked the same paths of all that matters

The seeds of our life watered and sown

The era goes on following life’s line
Through our love destined to find

Through the love already known

grief in a suitcase

grief is like a suitcase
not the new type
manufactured of molded plastic
with rollers
and an extendable aluminum handle
it is like the old leather kind
forced into a rectangular shape
with a leather strap handle
And brass corner guards
attached with rivets
like an old steamer trunk

you carry it with you day to day
keeping it close to your side
it’s full and heavy and hard to carry
like a bag of sand
or a cardboard box full of old books
and you lug it with you
everywhere you go
you take it to bed with you
you take it to lunch
you drag it into the shower

sometimes you open it
to confirm its contents
and cry
other times it’s less noticeable
it sits in the corner
sometimes it pops opens on its own
when you stumble over it
in the dark
on your way to the bathroom
or to make some tea
you put it away
out of sight
in the back of the closet
or on a shelf
but it never goes away
you forget about it for a while

Over time it becomes smaller
and lighter
Easier to carry around
Easier to forget about
When you least expect it
You find it again
As time passes it changes
becomes easier to open
you begin to appreciate
its contents
with sadness and joy
and you put away again
for later

BETWEEN THE ROAD AND THE RAIL

I’m walking a line between the road and the rail
Where the colors of life appear worn and pale
An encumbered plot constricted by scale
Narrow in width a perpetual trail

The weeds creep in from edges defined
Finding their way from the world outside
Bounded by fringes that boarder the mind
Staking their claim in a world confined

A solace refuge void of purpose and place
Where order’s created by nature displaced
The edges littered with wanton waste
Defining a path that beckons a way

Searing asphalt and creosote soaked dust
A solace refuge void of purpose and trust
Good intentions found corrupt
Impartial judgment armored with rust

Parallel lines that converge on the horizon
No turns, bends, or perceptible deviation
I’m moving forward in a single direction
Step by step, section by section

A surface scoured through time and neglect
Forged with bitterness and aimless contempt
Harboring souls of life’s reject
Between the space where lines connect

Forging ahead through life’s betrayal
Hoping for passage of conductors hail
Watching trains pass to no avail
Living between the road and the rail

The Final Breath

There is a point on the horizon

Where you stand with your heart wide open

Surrounded by love, friends, and family

A point that is undetermined

  A point that is everlasting

Where the light is pure and waiting

A path that’s sure and deserving

Of a life lived worth earning

  There is a point on the horizon

Where the future and past are burning

The start of a life unknowing

Distant, dim, and foreboding

The Promise of faith un-wavering

Where you begin to release your burden

Of hardships faced and conquered

The miracle of life you are seeing

  There is a point on the horizon

Where you face the solitude and loathing

The point you realize the purpose

Of the wonder, the gift, and the suffering

There is a point on the horizon

Where goodness and freedom are waiting

Filled with quiet and understanding

The final breath to begin breathing