Last Breath Poem by Paul Amrod

Twilight gleams ever so hauntingly like a spirit restless
with a feeling that the sun’s disappearing.
The northern lights arise to reveal an ominous omen
as a centaur gallops stampeding the helpless.
Dawn will come with a fickle taunting breeze and a sweet rainbow,
but sleepless urchins roam the street. I know their hearts are fearing.
It is their Last Breath, it is their first death.
It was the big sweep as the wind blew west in silence.
Darkness creeps, like a wizard’s magic touch, through the souls
of tiny peasants as they clutch their darlings howling at the midnight.
The woesome pound their chest as the mournful weep
expressing their ultimate departure and defeat.
No moonlight streams as the lizards crawl over my feet.
I see again the pitiful crying. How dreadful their eyes are tearing.
It is their Last Breath, the devil comes strong at death.
He pulls his sharp knife and holds the whole neighborhood hostage.
Daughters will be stolen from their habitat and camouflage,
well-kept behind a mirrored mirage and as they try to break away
the devil bounds them to his monstrous collage and clay
and says “It is your Last Breath so inhale while you are inside my jail.”
Then he laughed with a shrieking scream for ‘twas their first death.
They took the wrong turn without anyone’s concern.
The despicable and ruthless selfishly deny their dismay
while they hideously provoke anger. A grotesque misery they portray
setting to rest the pilgrims of peace with a final exhale.
It was their Last Breath, it was her majesty Macbeth.
It was the big sweep as the wind blew west in silence.
It was their Last Breath. It was the passage to death.
It was our last birth. It was a funeral’s unspoken dearth.
Nothing stays amongst the living. We have surrendered in consequence.