DEATH, BE NOT PROUD… – PROMPT #73

And as we have discovered long ago, life is not all song and roses. There is a real, more permanent slice of life we have and will encounter in our time on earth. We will all pass on. What legacy we leave will be determined by others.

“HOW DO YOU VIEW your life? – POETIC BLOOMINGS MEMOIR PROJECT

Part 8: Death Be Not Proud – What was your first exposure to death? Was it a pet, neighbor, a close relative? Was there a long illness involved or was it sudden? Write it as honestly as possible. Say what you’ve always wanted to say. If that is too hard to tackle, write a poem about your view of death. (But, please remember this is a memoir project and we want your experiences. So if you can, please do!)

MARIE ELENA’S RECOLLECTION:

VISIONS OF HEALTH (a sonnet for Grandpa Dunn)

A “smoking man” before you were a man,
Reluctantly you quit in later years.
To sidestep cancer’s outbreak was your plan,
Which fell far short of halting cancer’s gears.

They said your health was very, very poor
And I knew there was nothing I could do.
No meals or hugs, nor simple visits, for
Twelve hundred miles distanced me from you.

The greater part of me must thank my God
For distancing me once you were beset
With toxic cells that ambushed, seized, and clawed –
No horrid recollections to forget.

I never saw you lying in repose,
Nor even in the midst of cancer’s throes.

© Marie Elena Good – 2012

WALT’S EXPERIENCE:

ALL IN PASSING

Gentle man, born in another land.
It was the land of your birth and
my rebirth through heritage.
You were a second father;
my grandfather. Your final days
stay with me long after you have gone.
You were my friend. You were my mentor.
You gave me more in my brief time with you
and it has blessed me a thousand-fold.
But you had gotten old. And arteries
were not meant to harden as you became frail.
And watching you sail off of the ladder
when you knew better than to  chance
the happenstance that befell you.
I can tell you, your death affected me greatly.
It is only lately that my mortality haunts me.
Your memory taunts me in a good way,
as they say, all in passing.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012