An Ode To Death
Your
ode to death is in the lifting of a single eyebrow. Lift it and see. (Conrad
Aiken)
Death is more than certain, says e.e Cummings,
But the clocks go on ticking as before
And in every particle of carbon dust
There lives a diamond dream
How many galaxies yet to be explored-
How many seeds in the pomegranate of time?
The pine tree blasted by last year’s
Thunderbolt
And the burn out match stick in my ashtray
Look so terribly alike
I have sat by your bedside and felt
Your sinking pulse. Are the hair and bones
Really indestructible and how long
Does it take for the eyes
To dissolve in the grave?
Two streams mingle in a forgotten river.
Between the eye and the tear
There is the archipelago of naked rocks
Only sleep and silence there-
No anchorage for grief.
I, too, have wandered in a forest of
symbols
And clutched at the harlots of memory.
I have seen the “stars plummet to their
dark addresses”
I have felt your absence around my neck
But let bygones be bygones
Who was the deceiver and who the deceived
Was I on a floating island
And were you on the shore?
Which one of us moved away?
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