Dear Death

a poem by Lady Shaula Salathe, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

Dear Death
I am sick of You and Your petulant ways
Taking mercilessly without warning
From a queue which makes no sense to me.
Is it so very hard to take from the eldest?
To give a little time to say goodbye
before they leave this earthly plane?

Is it simply too difficult for you to leave
Children, young fathers and
Young mothers?

I find You disorganised and
Your sense of chaos brings my world
Crashing to its feet

While those I know and love
Beat their wings against
An invisible breeze
That comes from within and without

Is it cruelty that makes You so?
Or simply a disdain for the status quo of
Peaceful. Family. Life.

I am sick of You and Your petulant ways.
She was 41. My friend.
Mother to two children that I know
Almost as well as my own.

I am told that I should be friends with You, oh Death,
But let us be quite clear
You are not welcome. Not today.
Be off.
I am sick of You.

- July, 2015

The Green Door
The Art of Dying
On Coming Back to Say Good-bye

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