Youth ran away toward the front,
as death pursued from the rear
Catching me inside the paradoxical
whipsaw of life
I stopped, as the boy continued into the distance;
but the reaper stopped too
Wanting me to run some more,
preferring to attack from behind
As I turned to face my stalker, his eyes went down;
and his presence cast no shadow
He took two steps back, but I reached for his hand
while saying:
“Walk with me, keep up with me;
your job here still not finished
The boy has indeed gone; but
the man is not yet ready to go”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2017)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: August 29th, 2017 09:22
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
Offline)
Comments3
This man will never be ready to go! Thought provoking and as usually so well written poem, Kurt.
It follows us all 🙂
Thanks, Fred
Kurt
Don't remember if it was Woody Allen who said: 'I don't fear death, I just don't want to be there when he comes.' 🙂
🙂
A fine philosophical poem here, Kurt! I really appreciated it ... well put.
Very kind. Thanks, Louis
Kurt
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