Death Knocks At Our Doors Poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen

With fragile hands death knocks
at our doors; knocking at day time,
noontime, evening or dawn.
With harsh voice, it clothes
us with the claws of fears
as we feel our body being
rocked by unspeakable pain.

The same voice of death
insistently knocks at our doors
prompting us to see her own image
in accidents, natural calamities and
inhumane violence against mankind.
And we shudder in shock and tears
when we see its own image
stamped even on the faces of those
who in our hearts, we hold dear.

Death knocks at our doors
without regard of our age,
sex, carrier, religion and position.
It keeps on knocking at our doors
in all times and in all seasons.
As death knocks, let us talk in person
to the Life’s Shepherd and Creator
upon whom death was once won.