What is Death?


A dying friend once asked of me, what is death?
You’re a poet can you tell me please, what should I expect?

Is it the tears that fill my heavy eyes, while watching a beautiful sunrise not knowing where I belong?

Is it the flash of the sinking sun a sign that this day and life now done and soon the angel of darkness comes?
Is it gazing at the Strawberry moon so long I hear it’s mournful tune and begin to croon the saddest song?
Is it the spark of light from a falling star, another dying soul searching afar, answering the death bells’ gong?
I paused and pondered all he said, clasped my hands, and bowed my head but before I could answer, he was gone.
And now I pose the question to you, what is it like to live with this final thought that someday your heart will stop?
©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg 


47 Comments on “What is Death?

  1. I do not know what death is. I say and watched my mother staying for several months. But I do know what it is not. Seems a lot of us have death in the brain this go around!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I really like the delicate and lightness of tone here – when addressing such a subject – refreshing to read – thank you…

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I’ve seen too much of dying, death and funerals but they told me nothing but to live my life to the fullest and show love from my heart and in my eyes and on my lips.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. A question we will all get the answer to but not be able to share. I’d like to think it will be ‘… the flash of the sinking sun a sign that this day and life now done’ or ‘…the spark of light from a falling star’.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. This is so poignant!💜 Especially like “Is it the spark of light from a falling star, another dying soul searching afar, answering the death bells’ gong?”💜

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Wow! You described it perfectly. Every line got a nod from me. The last line can only be described by one who’s been there! Your heart stops…. the beats again in a hollow drum.

    Liked by 2 people

  7. It is an odd thing, but I have witnessed death and the aftermath of death… as a family member and as a stranger brought into the group to assist the terminally ill and their family cope with the before, the now, and the after. I’ve seen death sap a person. I’ve seen approaching death revitalize a patient to the point where they are living at a level beyond those around them. Like snowflakes, each one is unique. And full of mystery. I have witnessed them with silence — the only gift I could give.

    Your poem is beautiful!

    Liked by 2 people

    • Charley- you are blessed to have those experiences. I am sure they were not easy, but something worthwhile seldom is. Thank you for your thoughts and I am happy you enjoyed reading it.

      Liked by 1 person

      • It’s odd, but it wasn’t really that hard in hindsight. Even being at my grandmother’s side as she passed, I felt — in my early twenties — it was part of life. Perhaps I’ve somehow become in touch with my more primitive side.

        Liked by 2 people

  8. I believe death is this body, this shelter, shedding itself, releasing the real me, that never dies to an eternal home. A tender poem you have written, embracing the questions that propagate the very art.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. If we are wise and listen… each time we are close to death (others or our own) we learn to treasure each day and live.

    Liked by 2 people

  10. Well, I’ve lived with that knowledge ever since i was diagnosed with an aneurysm 8 years ago. I’m used to it now. Or maybe I’m just resigned to it. ☺❤

    Liked by 2 people

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