“What is it in particular that frightens you about Death?”

M.E.M.

I have known pain,

and I fear knowing worse pain

right as I pass.

That I will die in agony

before ceasing to exist forever.

 

I fear the lack of being.

That my brain will no longer carry messages

throughout my body or generate thoughts,

and my nerves will no longer register touch.

 

I fear that the marks I have left on this world

will have been too small

to pick out from a crowd

of lives lived louder than mine.

 

I fear my name will be lost to time,

as my body will be lost to grubs in the dirt,

or my ashes to the wind and waves.

 

In this moment,

I do not fear leaving those I love.

I know they will remember me

because I will have loved them deeply enough

and made it impossible

for them to forget.

 

But what about the rest?

I do not crave fame,

or a star set in concrete.

 

I know it sounds egotistical to say,

but I would like strangers to know my name,

for my words to have touched them

in some small way.

I fear my footprints upon this Earth

will have been too faint

to last.

  • Author: M.E.M. (Offline Offline)
  • Published: July 16th, 2025 09:02
  • Comment from author about the poem: The title of this poem is a question that Irvin D. Yalom posed to his patients a lot and brings up a lot in his book “Staring at the Sun”. Kind of the other side of the coin to my poem “What do you think of when You think about death?” Created & Edited: 7/15/25 | Finalized: 7/16/25
  • Category: Sad
  • Views: 9
  • Users favorite of this poem: Soman Ragavan
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Comments +

Comments2

  • sorenbarrett

    That is a common concern that we will be forgotten is that not why we have grave markers? Nicely written.

    • M.E.M.

      Thank you for your support and comments!

      • sorenbarrett

        You are most welcome

      • Soman Ragavan

        "I fear my name will be lost to time..." This is a fear that poets have. We wonder what will be left when we are gone. Data saved on servers will last long but will disappear when there is no one to look after them any more. Hard books will disappear one day. It's a terrible life, one that insists on erasing everything. Today, 9th August is your birthday. Happy birthday. Best wishes. May full prosperity and happiness always come your way. A fellow poet.



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