EXPRESSIONS Poetry

DEARTH OF DEATHS

When fire touched you

and made you the radiance of the night,

I thought you’ll scream for help                                           

I thought you’ll call for a savior

But you were proud to the end

You screamed, yes you did

You screamed your name

You called for yourself

As you were extinguished;

Hair to hair, sinew to sinew,

You called for yourself

But where were you to be found?

As your life was lost in the life of fire

And fire blazed brighter and hotter

Crackling, burning, sizzling

In slender whorls of flame,

And yet beautifully whole

Why did you mention your own name?

Maybe to keep anchored to the living

But fire was living too

So you only strengthened your unholy union

And your strength was finally lost

Your voice too

You wasted your last chance at life

You shouldn’t have mentioned your own name

Because death heard you

And found you.

Goodbye, my friend.

Because of people like you

There’s no dearth of deaths.

POET-Kwasi ’Sei-threesixtyGh writer/contributor.

IMAGES– Google.

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