camille-monigatti-lake - Hello Poetry

The strangest thing about being dead Is hearing what other people say about you. I was robbed of Life Or rather Death and I became friends In a time of life when that doesn't usually happen. Yet. Hiking led to falling led to Broken bones and whispers Of whose fault it was that one time My sister and I made my mother cry. A pain, a panicked sickening, And then a peace. It was done. I wandered through the shadows Just listening. People spoke of the accident. Of the cause. I could no longer Join the discussion. Strangers who listened to news reports Discussed my fate without batting an eye. Secretly thinking This will never happen to me. Of course not, because these things always happen To someone else.

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Mar 24, 2016

Mar 24, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC

Through The Eyes Of Death

The strangest thing about being dead Is hearing what other people say about you. I was robbed of Life Or rather Death and I became friends In a time of life when that doesn't usually happen. Yet. Hiking led to falling led to Broken bones and whispers Of whose fault it was that one time My sister and I made my mother cry. A pain, a panicked sickening, And then a peace. It was done. I wandered through the shadows Just listening. People spoke of the accident. Of the cause. I could no longer Join the discussion. Strangers who listened to news reports Discussed my fate without batting an eye. Secretly thinking This will never happen to me. Of course not, because these things always happen To someone else.

24

After reading A Severe Mercy I decided to collect what the author coined to be Still Points of the Turning World. Moments As fine as flour As ephemeral as the waxing of the moon Yet as eloquent and lucid As the vermilion and indigo sunrises in the East Which take one’s breath away. I sat in an empty room Full of people As I watched my Grandfather breathe his last. His eyes closed. My Mother’s tears Streamed across his cheeks. I ran a way from home Post Storm. The fading clouds Loomed heavy, still bitter. Yet I’d never felt as light As when I stared across the landscape And felt the peace of Being Sweep over me. I looked at his pupils. The soul dwells there, They say. “I’ve never done this before.” He moved a loose strand of hair Behind my ear. He took my mouth And helped me learn. The thing about Still Points of the Turning World Is that they are full of Pain, Longing Wonder, Joy, and are Every bit of what makes Life Worth living. Simply being aware of them Germinates the seeds Curiosity creates Their space to breathe And love Waters the roots.

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Mar 11, 2016

Mar 11, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC

Still Points of the Turning World

After reading A Severe Mercy I decided to collect what the author coined to be Still Points of the Turning World. Moments As fine as flour As ephemeral as the waxing of the moon Yet as eloquent and lucid As the vermilion and indigo sunrises in the East Which take one’s breath away. I sat in an empty room Full of people As I watched my Grandfather breathe his last. His eyes closed. My Mother’s tears Streamed across his cheeks. I ran a way from home Post Storm. The fading clouds Loomed heavy, still bitter. Yet I’d never felt as light As when I stared across the landscape And felt the peace of Being Sweep over me. I looked at his pupils. The soul dwells there, They say. “I’ve never done this before.” He moved a loose strand of hair Behind my ear. He took my mouth And helped me learn. The thing about Still Points of the Turning World Is that they are full of Pain, Longing Wonder, Joy, and are Every bit of what makes Life Worth living. Simply being aware of them Germinates the seeds Curiosity creates Their space to breathe And love Waters the roots.

39

If I don't live, breathe, Think, feel. I fear I shall be Not the rose I wished. The life I had planned Shall have slipped away like the Careless winds of June Into the Darkness The unreachable sleepy Unwakeable night. Shall I forget this? When my life has come and gone Will I be the same?

0

Mar 8, 2016

Mar 8, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC

The Same

If I don't live, breathe, Think, feel. I fear I shall be Not the rose I wished. The life I had planned Shall have slipped away like the Careless winds of June Into the Darkness The unreachable sleepy Unwakeable night. Shall I forget this? When my life has come and gone Will I be the same?

12

The Tightrope said to me "Life's a walk!" He also said "Death's a trip!" Though he be but a humble Tightrope I believe he speaks the truth.

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Mar 7, 2016

Mar 7, 2016 at 11:39 PM UTC

The Tightrope

The Tightrope said to me "Life's a walk!" He also said "Death's a trip!" Though he be but a humble Tightrope I believe he speaks the truth.

6

What do you say to the Bridegroom When you are not the Bride? What do you wear to the Funeral When you are the one that's died? They say all these things will make sense in Heaven. But what will I do til then?

0

Mar 7, 2016

Mar 7, 2016 at 11:32 PM UTC

Heaven

What do you say to the Bridegroom When you are not the Bride? What do you wear to the Funeral When you are the one that's died? They say all these things will make sense in Heaven. But what will I do til then?

6

I saw wings on the ceiling Skinny Love playing in my head I was told wings were used to fly To carry us to places not yet seen By eyes like mine. It would seem that wings can be used Simply to walk. For the steady gait Of life's ups and downs Requires extra balance when You're walking a tightrope.

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Mar 5, 2016

Mar 5, 2016 at 8:37 PM UTC

I saw wings on the ceiling

I saw wings on the ceiling Skinny Love playing in my head I was told wings were used to fly To carry us to places not yet seen By eyes like mine. It would seem that wings can be used Simply to walk. For the steady gait Of life's ups and downs Requires extra balance when You're walking a tightrope.

11