I Am Become Death

See looking down on skyfall

a mouth wide in horror and sand pouring in

Rivers silent in crushing cascades

carry souls, mere specks of life

into the dagger teeth of raw iron

then back on the slow wash of time

currents familiar and strange and slow

rolling through abyss to the end of millenia

before the rise to skylit dreams above

and rebirth on crashing swells

Thrown ashore to grasp at new sand

and leave behind dreams of oblivion

now only a dull echo in aching bones

a whisper in ears that remember deafness

vision in eyes once blind

and the feeling of something almost real

slipping between fingers 

that remember what it was

to hold the stuff of nightmare

Anyone else losing track of the days?

Image by Андрей Бетев from Pixabay

19 responses to “I Am Become Death”

  1. It seems to be the opposite of normal. Weekdays flicker past while weekends drag interminably. On the other hand, it’s not every day you see a Rolls Royce Corniche cruising down an otherwise empty thoroughfare in the middle of the day or a Trump 2020 cap set on the dash of a Tesla. I don’t know whether coronavirus has much to do with the latter but there it was.

    Liked by 2 people

      • Thank you,

        I’m so pleased with the wide range of works I have so far for this anthology even at this early stage.
        It is shaping up to be a fascinating look at what is happening, how people are managing to remain somewhat sane.

        Can you send me a 100 word bio too please, these will go in the anthology as well.


        Liked by 1 person

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