National Poetry Month: Death and I

Happy Monday!

I know that is a terrible way to start of a post about a poem that concerns death.

Right now, I am dealing with death, but not in the physical sense. Death of an old way of thinking and death to habits that don't contribute to my future.

Today's poem is by Mark R. Slaughter:

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Death and I

When death comes 
I’ll need not love – 
Consumed, 
No wreath or dove 
Could offer me salvation, 
Not when I’m no more.

A weathered stone will bear my name – 
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in 
A world of risk, and never seeing 
Sense of why we’re here. 

My genes will die away thro’ child – 
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance – 
Memories of provenance 
Resigned to curious few. 

When death comes 
I’ll need not grace 
Below; no grieving face 
Will call my resurrection, 
Not when I’m at ground – 
Death and I so bound.