Waiting for Death
But He never comes
Though I know
He's visiting someone
He once knocked at my door
But I wasn't home
Yet, when He left
He wasn't alone
Instead He visited
My lover, my friend
Then He tried
To visit again
But again I was gone
So He went next door
And visited grandma
Then came back once more
Rearing His head
With anger and hate
Missing me again
But again sealed my fate
For it was Mom
Who answered that door
So He took her
To even the score
So, now here I sit
And wait for that knock
The one I've heard
But never got
I know He's out there
Visiting someone
And I'm still waiting
To be the next one
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Author:
teardrop (
Offline) - Published: April 20th, 2025 05:30
- Comment from author about the poem: October 2000, my husband, mother and grandmother all 3 died in a 2 week period.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
A great poem and metaphor that we all can identify with. I have heard his knock before as well but now it seems that he is visiting distant neighborhoods and I would much rather that he knock on my door than that of many I know. I'm ready for him and have the table set. A really fun read.
A great poem and metaphor that we all can identify with. I have heard his knock before as well but now it seems that he is visiting distant neighborhoods and I would much rather that he knock on my door than that of many I know. I'm ready for him and have the table set. A really fun read.
Thank you for reading me. Yes, I agree, I too am still waiting for his knock. I have lost so many loved ones and life is changing so fast. My son passed away in 2020 and I so deeply home my visit comes before He visits anymore family or loved ones. Grief sucks bad and I have had years of experiencing it. Again, thank you for your thoughts.
good read, enjoyed it
Thank you!
most welcome
Oh, dear friend, I am so sorry to hear that! What a terrible tragedy, and the worst example of things happening in threes. That is something, no matter how much time passes, one never “gets over“. Learn to cope, find a way to accept, yes. But get over, no, never what a beautiful expression, my friend, a haunting one this is something I’ve seen in my dreams And it feels like it mixes nicely with the final destination films. It rings and sings like a song with the alarming allure only death can have. This is a must fave for me because in it is both a fun haunt of a poem that speaks to all of our mortality and a profoundly deep and vulnerable expression of pain and suffering and longing and, I hope for you, my friend healing. Again, I absolutely love this poem! Well done!🌹👏
Touching, emotional... Thanks for taking the moment to pen your hurts down for the world to see. I hope your heart is already healed 🙏
The Grim Reaper never sleeps and toils without mercy; leaving in his wake rivers of grief and shattered hearts. Your poem is excellent, deftly composed with poetic flair and sincerity. My heartfelt condolences for your loss and may you find some form of succour in your beautiful writings.
Kind regards,
Tony.
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