On Death

On Death: A poem to our humanity

I see you at the beach with your back turned

The life at the end of your tunnel fades 
with each step your eyes engrave on the sand
each breath you give away 
to the lies of the land.

I hear you my love.

You say you want to do your best in
this temporal, fleeting moment they call life

but that life is not really alive

it’s sleeping 
with eyes so wired to the world 
they can’t feel me 
breathing the waves

They see castles to build
and problems to fix so they exist
in fear of time escaping their serious grip
in a feeling of time as a solid shore of age
shaping every move.

So tell me, who is the ‘you’
that wants to do your best?
And how will you judge it?
Is there a test? A punishment? 
A crucifixion at the final minute?

Who is the ‘you’ that is bound so tightly 
in this thing you call time? 
The ‘you’ that is trying? 
Running for breath? Believing in dying?

Some say you have fallen from my grace.

That you must try to be good 
so we can embrace once
the blood stills in your veins
and the thoughts no longer race 
in your head 
But therein lies the only test — true or false?

It is not true my love!

This is the lie that keeps you 
turning away from me in this undying moment.
You do not need to be repaired or saved

only remembered.

Beautiful one

Your heart is cracking open 
in the dark night of days rolling into my soft harbour

I am right here

And I will never leave you

~ Clare Rousseau, June 2019

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