Of Life and Death
A poem on emotions after the death of a family member.
The pangs of loss morph from
A Norse battle-axe’s hacks to
Thor’s Mjölnir clobbering away at the ribcage to
The stabs of a Swiss Army knife to
A sharp steel floss slicing the flesh.
Each additional death makes me
Marginally less myself, a stranger to my soul,
A lonelier first person
in an otherwise ever-increasingly
Populated world.
With each passing away,
The shape, structure, orientation
And the speed of my orbit change
Slightly yet abruptly
Like the inevitable
Redirection of a warship.
Death is as consistent and persistent
As an un-bulwarkable Himalayan glacier.
Nonetheless, it feels like a sudden
And quick lightning from the fair sky
Due to our subjective ignorance,
Objective relativism, spatial distance,
Temporal myopia, recreational depression,
And interlocutor bias (not here, not me), inter alia.
I figure: emotional dissonance and
Expectation gaps in expressions could be attributed
To differences of the personal profit-loss delta,
Social capital, or the lack thereof,
And perceptions of affectional discrimination
(s/he didn’t give a damn about me!);
Such was the calculus of Princess Maria Bolkonskaya
During the last days of her father, the Old Prince.
I get that; I know where one is coming from.
However, somewhere halfway between the heart
And the brain lives a strange being,
Organic or metaphysical, only trained
Professionals can tell; all I know
That it is there, the ‘object’ that induces
Stuff like love, passion, hate, greed,
Grievance, and yes, sadness, melancholy.
That entity, fleshy or aerial,
Throbs like a gaping wound,
Every time I see one of my kinsfolks go,
Or every time a new massacre I hear of or lo.
Halifax, 16.04.21






