This one’s not a review. This is an original poem.
I wrote this piece the morning before my grandmother’s death.
I realized that her death was eminent (though I didn’t know how eminent), reality struck me it had finally settled in that Granny wasn’t going to recover from this battle.
Death is the enemy, I don’t want to face.
Is death a dragon,
with a mighty roar,
breathing sharp flames of pain to envelop us?
Is death an unmerciful creditor,
pounding on the door,
forcefully collecting its due?
Is death a goliath,
looming over us,
making plans to exert its strength?
Is death a kraken,
lurking in calm waters,
until it feels a need to satisfy its hunger?
Is death carbon monoxide,
silently filling our bodies,
until it gradually overcomes us?
Is death an atom bomb,
and changing everything about life instantly?
I realize death is all of these.
It it more than all of these.
Death is the worst enemy.
Death is an enemy, I don’t want to face.
But who, if they had their choice,
would face any enemy?