by George MacLean Akurunwa
Thursday, June 09, 2011
Rated "PG13" by the Author.
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Why does death demand wages from the living
like a parasite demanding to reap
where it did not sow?
Why does it sit and wait on our doorways
insisting to be heard,
to be worshipped,
to be appeased,
like a megalomaniac, a monopolist,
a crapulent hog, a cormorant?
Why does it lurk around
our streets and shorelines,
fighting to interrupt our journeys
like a heartless bully?
Everyday we jump and leap
through walls and fences trying to outrun it
as it swirls around us like a windstorm,
reaching and pulling our clothes
and our hairs from every side,
spinning its leathery hands around us
to tie our legs and hands together
with mud, or rubbles, or anything
it can lay its hands on,
digging underneath us to uproot us,
hauling and tossing its sludge at us
from every angle.
known and unknown clerics,
saints and sinners, masters and servants,
workaholics and lazybones,
the rich and the poor,
all pray and groan, and moan
for a divine power,
or a magic wand
to silence it forever.
Everyday we sift through sands
and rivers and air with armored sieves
for death’s primordial artifacts,
for its inoculating filaments,
for its stunning tentacles,
for its cutting incisors,
for its sanguineous proboscis,
for its virulent venoms,
but we end up with clogged strainers
and broken spatulas, and lacerated hands.
Night after night we strain our eyes
and stretch our minds to the limit
in the most sophisticated labs,
in bracing spaceships,
in ivory towers,
in secret fortified bunkers,
trying to conquer it with science,
or banish it with drugs,
but the monster has vowed
never to leave us alone.
It is an inherited bane,
a burden we must bear,
a passage we must pass,
a journey we must take,
a call we must answer.
2011.George MacLean Akurunwa
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|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|A monumental look at death unspoken. Great poetry.
|Reviewed by Liana Margiva
|EXCELLENT!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva|
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
|Death is in the natural order of things,
George, and we must accept, but it isn't easy;
i've come to the best terms i can with it, it
will come and take me one day - until then...
|Reviewed by Abdi-Noor Mohamed (Eagle Of Hope)
|Death is something we cannot prevent. The irony is not dying as such but it is the lack of knowledge of when to die, how to die and where to die. But on the other hand if we knew all these things life would not have had any meaning for us as we would be in a state of panic always, so it is better not to get answers for the points I have raised here.
This is One of the most interesting poetry on death I have ever read! Thanks my friend for this beautiful work.
|Reviewed by Joy Hale
|Wonderful, introspective writing. Joy L. Hale|
|Reviewed by Mr. Ed
|Our Inherited Bane - quite a powerful bane, especially these very sad days.|