to all who looked
could bear to look
he was diminished
a skeleton of man
the faintest stamp
a vague tattoo upon
earth’s crusty dermis
his ink near finished
vibrant shades now
faded by his hands
a pencil etch-a-sketch
self-erasing shaken with
each dram and draw he took
a tracing watercoloured
in a wornout painting book
a disappearing frame on which
the cloth of life was worn
to disassembled threads
eliminating, obsoleting
even with each breath, he dreads
the final phase, the loss of vocal chords, the emptiness, the void of words – the stoking fear as death draws near, the absent smile, an unchecked tear – the fatal blow that takes him from those loved, those lost – the furtive reek encroaching, the avalanche, the bitter cost – the vapour misting, the misfiring heart, the solemnities, those torn apart – the shitting and the palour, the wasted times – the pungent puke of silence, he could taste the signs – his shell, it crumples, crumbles, vanishes and then – his one enduring, fleeting, ever-breathing thought that he should live, and live again – denying not his errors nor his sins long past – he sits, transfigured, mute, disfigured, and awaits his last-
behind the neutral mask
the fading screen
the maybe thoughts
of one still barely living yet
the might have beens
the deep regrets
desire to delay
the realisation
he cannot stay
a dying friend
and his careworn wife
the thoughts of death
the longing for life
no substitute
no greater bond
he sits and waits
for the not-so-great beyond
no consolation
in the years he had
too soon departing
husband, dad, grandad
a face resigned
while his heart’s aflame
no, no consolation
and I, I cannot him blame
for in the journey
we will never know
the choices taken
nor our time to go
Oh wow! So powerful. May I reblog?
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No problem at all, Leslie. You never need to ask. Many thanks.
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Thanks!
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That is very powerful momus…the journey that awaits us all.
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Cruellest near the end, Mark, when the will to stay has to fight the weaker body. It seems a treacherous betrayal.
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It must be a cruel place to realise that ‘this is it’, not be able to fight as we feel our bodies grow weaker and lose that will to stay. And the fear of that ‘unknown’ momus.
Thankfully I have been shown the journey ( ‘The Death’ up on the menu bar), and the thoughts immediately after it, and my fears have been allayed as to that realisation and its purpose. It calmed me within to see what it meant to me in that understanding.
But to not have that understanding must be a fearful thing, for them and others around them.
I think it is from the fact that we never speak of it, that is why spirit showed me that journey above so that others may read and find a peace in that journey.
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I think fear is the great debilitator, Mark, and fear of the unknown must be right up there at the top. It would also explain so many other aspects of human behaviour, including the search for ‘something else’. Perhaps those with faith or the experience you describe are more prepared to let go. You’re lucky and blessed to have been given an insight.
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It was a blessing…like no other…and I really mean that Anne Marie. Of all the things I have been shown THAT really showed me that fear that I think we all have, of ‘not knowing’ what is there after we die.
The profound relief to ‘see’ something of this magnitude was so opening to my life, I let go this ‘thing’ that was always at the back of my mind…that some day I would need to face, but studiously looked the other way…in that fear.
And I have let it all go, simply because of what I now know. It is in understanding anything that we can now see it for what it is, and that power of our fear is released, it is no longer ‘the unknown’.
That is why spirit asked me to write that post, to remove that unknown and at the least show that there is something very beautiful waiting. Something very profound and still very much a part of who we are.
And now I will add another part (soon), to show that it has another perspective that can give it more meaning as well.
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Reblogged this on Praying for Eyebrowz and commented:
I found this so incredibly moving. Read more at scottishmomus.wordpress.com.
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Many thanks, Leslie.
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Thank you for writing such a profoundly beautiful piece.
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Epic, the journey to death and beyond waits for no man.
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Incredibly harsh at the end of the journey.
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It usually is. 😢😕
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A spell-bindingly beautiful tribute, Anne-Marie
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I don’t even like to think on it, Derrick, let alone witness it. It’s harsh but probably true for most of us. Who goes willingly, I’ve never known, except those who have resigned in despair. And I’ve known those too.
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I’ve watched a few, which is why I knew the beauty of your writing
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stunning – haunting – an impossibly accurate description my own private thoughts
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I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who resigns themselves to the idea of not being here. I’ve read there are but never encountered it. We fight to live right till the end I think. This friend, in his early sixties, has his knuckles fixed in the clefts. What must be going through his mind, in the face of an embarrassment of good health around him, I can imagine, having been privvy to the thoughts of my eighty-year old-mum at the end.
Flex those fists, Paul, it ain’t over till it’s over. Determination has won at least as many battles as strength.x
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I was with both Papa and Mama at their ends – Papa at 87 had been bedridden for more than 50 years with a crippling neuro-muscular disease, and he was elated to finally move on – Mama was 93 and this life left smiling at their imminent reconnection
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It must have been a gret comfort to know they were both ready, Paul.
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still talk with them every night
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Beautiful. I read it as a river, not sure how to describe how I saw your words, but beautiful nonetheless.
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Your comment is a beautiful description, Rene. The idea of the words as a river seems apt in the circumstances.xo
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Beautifully sad!
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Very well expressed and having worked in nursing home for 4 years, along with losing grandparents and Dad, I have seen many stages of death. So glad my Dad had cancer only for 4 months. He and Mom danced on his last day, ate small bites of an anniversary meal and we’re watching basketball and he yelled out for his team. His weakened blood vessel burst and he died in Mom’s arms at home.
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Sounds preferable to lingering, Robin, although it’s hard on everyone whichever way it is.x
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