Right hand, labours on. Burdened by the clay of her body A stubborn limb. In tempered skin.
Still, her left Passed in Spring.
It's gentle palm Curls open. Leaning into the surly revolt of her body.
Summer swirled. A haze of sun. And delicate forget-me-nots
Autumn threatens floods. Swollen clouds loom overhead. We brace for bitter winds In the Winter of her life.
And the rain pours. And the rivers carve a map.
And the days pass. Searching the blur of her body. A ****** wristwatch throbs Pulsing past a beating heart Mocking mottled skin.
And the rain pours. And strength settles into the seat.
A soft creak of leather Warms the room. whispers of my presence Saturate the cell walls of her coma.
And the rain pours. And unearths an infinite truth
A graceful dance. She flees The wreckage of her broken body, Expired lungs exhale all suffering. A parting gift.
And the light guides. And she sets sail. And the light guides.
A compass tears through swollen skies.
And the rain pours. And the floods rise.
And the banks burst. And the rain pours.
And the rapids Drag me into the gutter.
By Anna Grace Du Noyer
A poem about the end of life. Influenced by the profound event of my Mums death and unexplainable higher existence of which I'm.now sure. And being left behind. : the poem contains graphic imagery of end of life experiences. Caution is advised if this could affect you negativly.