The Grip

Nae's Nest —  August 5, 2012 — 2 Comments

Death’s grip, Harsh and cold

Relaxing at times, A breath, Big and bold

Damp air, Sticking to my throat

The wind is heavy, The breeze is dead, Unable to float

A cosmic bolt, Astrological mistake

The air is lifting, No longer a puddle, Rising above the lake

Able to breath, In great big gulps

Death’s grip is loose, The birds sing again

Bony fingers no longer a noose

Lungs replenished, I go for a walk

The dead are out, I can sense them, As they stalk

I am frightened, Can I survive?

My soul struggles, Mortified

Why do they want me?

Why?

I know it is to die

But why?

I am perplexed, Did I cross a witch?

Have I been hexed?

I am  not brave, Though I pretend

My heart is heavy, As I walk on

The face of death, My skin cold, clammy

Death’s mask…..Frozen in place……Unable to remove it…..Like a shroud on my face

My reflection in a store window, Pale, gray, ashen with blue lips

Lack of passion, Frozen in time, Nothing is there

A blank stare

I struggle on for more air

I feel the fingers of death, Clenching me

I must pray…..I need blessed…..I need the Spirit

To cleanse me

Renee Robinson

 

 

Nae's Nest

Posts

I find myself "Dancing With Cancer", problem is...I can't dance. I stumble, bumble, and get pulled along. To keep my sanity, (humor me), I write short stories, a journal, musings and poetry....just about anything goes.

2 responses to The Grip

  1. 

    This is haunting, yet beautiful. Thank you for sharing it 🙂 Hope you are doing ok?

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