Death

Death is like a silent day

Spent with nothing to say

Death is like a moment

In time and in space

During which nothing happens

Death is like a rose

That has dropped its thorns

Death is the silence

Of a painful scream

Death is the pain

Of having a low self-esteem

It is the blindness of someone

Who can actually see

It is the deafness of someone

Who can actually hear

What is going on out there

And what pushes us to be

Accomplices to this blasphemy

That is our death.

©Alexandre Allouch-Micati (november 2009)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s