A small, and sick little girl, laying in a bed of white, and no one around to help her.
When she opened her eyes, she was suprised to see herself, laying there; motionless.
Others would have cried, or be angry with what this meant, but not her.
She started skipping around the room, with a huge smile stuck on her face, only stopping to look out of the window, at the flower beds below.
“Why are you so happy?”
A black shadow of a man appeared in the corner. She couldn’t see his face, then again, she couldn’t really see anything other than the black that consumed him.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Nevermind, it’s none of my buisness.”
“Do you think that I could go outside before we have to go?”
He seemed stunned, but answered, “Um, sure.”
He grabbed her hand, and then they were outside.
She got to work and smelled all of the flowers and picked up the pretty ones. She rolled in the grass and then started to make some flower crowns out of the flowers she thought were pretty.
“Thank you.” she said.
“What?”
“Thank you. I was never allowed to go outside. The doctor said that I was too sick.”
“Do you know why you’re here? Don’t you know what happened to you?”
“Yes, I know. I’m dead, aren’t I?”
They looked at eachother for a while, not saying anything.
“My mom and dad spent a lot of money on me so that I could lay in that bed for longer than I should have.” She said while handing him one of the two flower crowns she made.
“Now, they don’t have to worry abou that.” She put on the other crown on her own head.
“I’m ready to go now.” she said grabbing his hand.
“Y-you’re welcome.” He said, then lead her to the afterlife.
The Taste of Death
I tasted death last night
It was strawberry flavored
And vegetarian
It can trap me in my nightmares
Or stop me from ever hurting again
The taste of death
The taste of freedom
The taste of fear
They’re all the same
Aren’t they?
I tasted death last year
She tasted like
Off brand chapstick
And artificial cinnamon
Death never did taste
All that good to me
The taste of death
The taste of freedom
The taste of fear
Can’t have without the other
Right?
I tasted freedom once
Many years ago
Don’t quite remember
The flavor
Every time since then
It’s been coupled with death
The taste of death
The taste of freedom
The taste of fear
Maybe someday I can
Separate them again
I taste fear
Every day
Drowning me
In its stench
I don’t know what
It tastes like
Beyond repulsive
The taste of death
The taste of freedom
The taste of fear
I wish I never had
To taste
Again
#death #fear #freedom #taste #flavor #challenge #poetry
Every soul will taste death...
Alhazar, a thousand times more than sin,
Allah is All-Seer of everything.
Take a look at the silent grave,
Every soul will taste death.
Who has come, who has gone, the past,
Life is fleeting and fleeting.
The good went, the bad went away,
Every soul will taste death.
Mankind is dangerous - the evil angel
It sucks each other's blood.
One day the bloodthirsty heart stops,
Every soul will taste death.
O Sherzod, don't be so oblivious!
He's going to cry tomorrow!
You will die, if you don't die one day,
Every soul will taste death.
When Death Knocks
When Death knocks on your door, you let him in while he´s asking politely. You offer him a seat in your finest chair and ask if he would like a cup of black coffee. When he agrees, you hand him the freshly cleaned mug and take a seat in the chair across from him, being careful not to make too much noise. You ask ¨Why the sudden visit?¨ and he quietly places his cup onto the wooden table with his eyes purposefully lowered until the last second. Inhaling a deep breath, he interlocks his fingers as his sorrowful eyes stare deep into yours as if questioning whether to answer truthfully or not.
And then he lies, ¨I just wanted to see you.¨
I’m Not Sorry
“The snow is so white”, Maggie exclaimed, pushing her nose against the cold window. She slowly drew circles in the frost her breath seemed to make and stared out at the large expanse of white blanketing the front of their house. Her eyes seemed to grow wider. It was almost as if the snow stretched for miles and miles, as far as her eyes could see.
“Meeh..it’s no big deal. This is nothing. Sometimes it snows so much they close off the streets because the roads are slick and icy. There are accidents… and let’s not talk about the cold, brrrr…I hate winter,” Chris chimed in a bored voice from where he sat in the corner, doodling. Chris was always doodling or drawing. Maggie thought it was strange how he could never sit still without his hands doing something.
She shrugged, the snow and ice fascinated her, seemed to draw her in, “we didn’t have ice where I’m from..just sun, lots of hot sun and rain, lots of rain…when it was not hot, it would rain.. our streets would also be closed off but because the roads had been washed away…hmm where does all this ice go to when the sun comes out?”, she directed the question to Chris but he gave a non-commital shrug because he was once again lost in his doodling.
Lost in his demons, her grandmother would say. Don’t trust people who always want to keep their hands busy, hiding something or running away from something. Maggie narrowed her eyes. Chris was only 15, what possible demons could he have? You are only 15 and you have many, her inner voice retorted. Maggie balled her fists and rubbed circles around her heart. It was heavy again, she supposed this was a price to pay, a burden she would have to carry for the rest of her life.
“I killed my father, “ Maggie whispered, matter of factly, to fill the silence that had suddenly descended over the room.
“What?” Maggie jumped as she heard Chris’s voice next to her. When had he moved? And did I really just say that? Out loud? To another human being?Nooo.. but it was as if her mouth had a life of its own.
“I killed my father..stabbed him because I hated him..I hate him..and I think I will always hate him,” Maggie said looking directly at the window, at the snow but not really seeing it. She was back in that hot, dusty town. The sun was scorching, she could feel it burning down on her. And she could hear his voice, rising with each word. Sitting outside on the little bench she was always told to go to when her parents began their ’daily discussion.”She always wondered if her mother knew she was not stupid.. the discussions always began with words thrown back and forth, the sound increasing with each syllable then moved on to a slap.. and a thud.. her mother’s stifled cry and her father’s blame game…I wish you would just die, Maggie recalled the first time she thought these words and the horror it had brought.
Good children love and honour their parents..atleast that’s what the priest at that little church her mother diligently took her to every Sunday preached. If you are bad, God will punish you..imagining her father’s death was surely a bad thing and she would go to hell for it…Maggie imagined the flames were just like the sun that beat down on her in January, you could not escape it and it always left you so thirsty no matter how much water you drank…so she asked God to forgive her for these bad thoughts and to change her father…and perhaps change her mother so that she could take them away…
“ My grandmother said I have a cold heart..unfeeling, dead, just like this snow,” Maggie said, tracing lazy circles on the window once again. She could feel Chris standing still beside her, feel his horror at her words. Hmmm perhaps my demons are bigger than his. And perhaps grandmother was right, maybe her heart was dead and in its place was a dark, empty space that did not have feelings or emotions. Did it matter that she wanted to protect her mother, to stop the noise and the shouting? To show her mother peace was possible?
“Am I bad because I don’t feel sorry?” Maggie half whispered, more to herself because there would be no redemption here, no understanding, no love.
“Did you want to do it?” Chris whispered back.
Maggie turned, the numbness in her chest growing but the answer definite in her mind,“Yes.”
Will my death be slow,
Or quick as something bludgeons me down,
Should feel nice being a fairly painless death,
But knowing that something dark remains,
Causing my death,
I would only feel sad,
An adventure after death,
Would be heavenly for an old body,
That has even lost life in the mind,
I may die tomorrow,
We can't predict what will happen,
But I can at least hold some hopes