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?
I know it is to die
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