The Sweetness of Death

Steven Yolland’s poem about death is a jewel that I wish I had written. Since I didn’t, I’m borrowing it here so my readers can read it.

Well, This Is What I Think

lonely headstone

There are days, when I can smell the sweetness of death.

Please do not be alarmed.

I do not seek death, nor wish it.

But as one gets older and friends drop off you cannot help but think,  what is that like? Eh?

Did it feel like anything? Or nothing?

And am I afraid of dying or being dead,

or am I simply afraid of leaving,

and being left out of what comes next?

And sometimes, I think

How calming it must be

To put down the cares, the day by day, the grinding

and simply sleep, deeply. Deep. Dreamlessly.

Less … dreams.

And if I am welcomed to a place

where all fears are stripped away well,

then that will be nice too.

So either way, it’s OK, I guess.

Sometimes, I can smell the sweetness of death.

We may as well. No one’s come back to complain.

I…

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About gwpj

Originally from Seattle, I now live in Sapporo, Japan, where I write, explore this city, read widely, and ask questions about things that i see as important. I'm also an author, with three novels published ("The Old Man and The Monkey", "Grandfather and The Raven", and "Bear: a story about a boy and his unusual dog"). For more information about my writing, drop by my website, at www.geogepolleyauthor.com.
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