Death Has No Doors

Death Has No Doors

Death came silent yet full of noise,

Unseen by all in view.

Sly like a fox, yet silent like a bird in flight,

Its grip took hold tighter than tight.

Is there really no escape from the word “DEATH”?

Like tree roots, it grows stronger, killing each breath.

Death destroys all families; it is caring for none.

Happy one moment here; the next, life is gone.

No thought of sadness for the ones left behind;

Death has no eyes, yet it can see all; it is not blind.

No smell, no feel, no body, no touch.

I fear you, Death, I fear you so much.

You take away life but take it where?

No mercy shown by you; Death has no care.

You do not bribe; you simply take.

You have no sleep, yet you're not awake.

What is Death's color? Black so dark or green,

Like the grass growing in the park?

What are you, Death? No start, no end.

Are you life's enemy or a tired soul's friend?

How deep is Death? How shallow? How wide?

You're like a ghost sat by all that lives’ side.

Damn you, Death, for you have no friends;

A never-ending circle, no beginning, no ends.

I spit your name out; I ban you from thought,

For the moment I am free, until by you I am caught.

What are you, Death? I need to know.

Silent hush or noise dark with no glow.

You come to all that live; then life stands still,

Leaving a gap nothing can begin to fill.

Death, a hate—your very meaning and name;

Death, you take, leaving nothing the same.

I want my dad back, please; you don’t answer me.

Again I ask, bring my dad back to me.

Note

I sat with my dad all night before he died. I was so frightened. I loved my dad, George Hurst, more than anything. He was my best friend. As morning came, I left to go home and try to sleep. My niece took over sitting with him. I got on my bed and closed my eyes. Still awake, I heard him say, clear as day, “I am going now, love.” “Okay, Dad,” I said. He replied, “I love you.” I said, “I love you too, Dad.” Within a few moments, the phone rang. My daughter, Joanne, picked it up. She called to me, “Mum, the hospital wants to talk to you.” I was calm. I said, “It’s okay; tell them I know he died at 10:20 a.m.” The nurse confirmed it.

In the darkest days afterward, I wrote this poem. Rest in peace, Dad. I still miss you, cry for you, and talk to your photo. Love you, Dad. ❤️🌹❤️

Copyrights to Marie381Uk. George’s Girl.