As noted in a previous blog, I’m dividing my time between my blog and the book I’m writing. Additionally, I’m gearing up for Easter weekend, so I may not post for the next few days.
With that in mind, I thought I’d share another poem, since y’all seemed to really like the last couple I shared. This one was written a few years ago, and is about addiction.
“A Note From Sir Death”
(by Rob Weddle ©2012)
A fiend alive, a beast I died
And no one dared to cry
Except a mother, old and frail
Who wiped a tear-dimmed eye
For she seen not the monster there
Laid cold upon the slab
Blue skin cut and bruised
18 holes jagged/ragged/stabbed
Chemicals had full eclipsed
A barren strand of joy
Pock-mark riddled from the needle
Crafted to destroy
Shining eyes within the boy
Had long-since left the man
Sickness fraught, a death brought on
By scarred, unsteady hands
The gentle woman whispered low
And tried to clean my wounds
But futile as one drop of rain
On tan and sandy dunes
My soul, a cloud of muddy grey
Trapped in a frame of bone
Stood long beside my lifeless body
Shaking and alone
I longed to hold the aging woman
‘Till her grief had faded
But Death looked on with fiery eyes
A spirit gaunt and jaded
“This is not permitted”
Said the ghost of blackened coal
“You had your chance, for God decreed
‘One life, one chance, one soul’
“Wasted ye the days of sun
So here, your Judgment Day
Look upon this scene awhile
Then we’ll be on our way”
Had my soul a beating heart
It surely would have broken
But scoundrels past have had their chance
So not a word was spoken
Wasted I the days of life
In drug-induced illusion
A creature of inflamed design
A victim of confusion
Myself I killed, more bitter still
One glaring truth had I:
This woman cherished her first-born
And wished me not to die
I went to speak but found no sound
To bring apology
Then Death had grinned his bitter grin
And sauntered next to me
“You have no voice,” he laughed
“No words are spoken by the dead
Your thoughts and deeds in life
Are words your wretched soul had said
“You’ve gazed upon this scene too long
And I must not be late
For many wait on Death’s grim hand
To intersect with Fate
The fright of sinner’s dying breath
My single joy afforded
I saunter in when nights of sin
Have yet one more aborted
“A sunrise for the living brings
The chance of God’s salvation
And yet upon their final moment
Sinners find damnation
Their life is gone, thus comes the dawn
The law of sin takes root
So Hell awaits with yawning gates
All dreams and schemes are moot”
So turning from my mother
With a grief no human knows
I motioned unto Death
That I was ready then to go
Beneath the ground my eyes beheld
A faint and orange glow
And suddenly I knew it was
The flames of Hell below
So while the fire takes my soul
I have one desperate plea
Embrace the Light, rebuke the night
And do not follow me!
Broken People 