Poetry – Why so Glum?

Why so Glum?

Death – why the glum face?

Have we not taunted you

Down all these long years?

Expected you are every turn?

Yet you only showed your face

In pictures, films and stories

From near and afar,

Rarely robbing our own homes.

For isn’t the firework

All the more exciting

For its brief moment

Of glory?

Isn’t the taste

So much


When fleeting

And gone?

For death

You have added piquancy

To an already

Spicy dish –

I thank you.

At the end of every road

We must turn

The final bend.

And weary from travelling

Welcome it

As the conclusion

Of a wondrous


So death – be not glum.

You have served me well

And we are well met.

Opher 24.4.2016

Why so glum?

My book – The Death Diaries – simmers on my computer. It is the work of a life-time. I am searching for the ending. Who knows what form that might take?

Looking back through life one realises that it is death that has created the excitement. We dare to invite and taunt, to test out our mortality. Our tales are of daring, where we have cheater the grim reaper of times when we have gambled and survived, pitted our skills against a deadly enemy. We have eaten of the bacon and ice-cream without a thought for the heart as if it could not happen to us. We have learnt the bike into the bend hoping that friction and gravity conspire to bring us back up again.

Every brush with possibility creates another story – and we laugh the harder that it was so close we felt its breath.

What would life be without it? And which would be the more terrifying?

For every journey ends – some far too soon – some before the flames has burned low – and now, when we have a life so well used, we can look back and celebrate. For death you played your part well.

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