Death's Mask

Death wears a mask

It is the face of an old wrinkled woman

With half-closed empty, motionless eyes

That stare off forever into the night

It is a body that sighs its last, long long breath

And the line of a heart monitor that slowly becomes still and straight

It is a hand that clutches one's fingers

Suddenly loosening and growing cold

It is a life of hardship, struggle and tragedy,

Finally relieved of its burden and toil

Suffering expelled in the last little breath

Disappearing with the last signs of living

Death wears its mask

As it crosses the river Styx

And passes over to the other side

It is a face without feeling or emotion

Its eyes reflecting naught

Neither happy nor sad

It is a sallow face framed in bony outline

Around the eyes, the cheeks, and chin

It wears a shallow serenity in its mask

And seeks not its own reflection

This serenity is one of solace

And even innocence

Of a life well spent

In spite of the suffering and pain

The body that remains

But an empty shell

A house abandoned,

Without spirit or soul

Soon to be cast out

Disposed of

Recycled

Seasons

Odd Ends: Perennial Poesy along the Way

2005