Silent time

Does death steal time?

Or kill it?


Death comes

And leaves time behind,

To those it claims not today.


The gift of silent time.


Still,

Like the virgin lake.

Nothing moves again,

And memories but freeze in the intricate fabric of time.


A brother,

An uncle,

A son,

A playmate,

An observer,

An invalid,

A diligent sentinel,

A simple man,

Now just a body.


Death truly leaves behind silence.

And gravity.

It weighs, heavy,

Seemingly settling the fluid air,

Shoving it down the living’s throat;

So much that it pains,

It chokes,

And when it can be contained no more,

Comes out as water;

Seasoned with salt,

For death’s insatiable hunger is but the singular truth.


Once a man,

Today a body,

And then today,

Dust.

Charred ashes,

Set free,

immersed in the flow of this sweet water.


Why does time not visit after death?



Are death and time enemies or just different renditions of the same truth? I can only wonder. Prose in slides dedicated to those we’ve lost, individually or as the collective. And pray that time continues its journey without its current favorite comrade - death. Stay safe. And love, courage and healing to everyone.

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