less than the dust
in death, the fear is absolved,
in life, the fear is rash and bold,
avoidance of our darkest night,
removes not the fear, from our sight.
memories end on final breath:
cheats death of life’s recollect.
the dead held silent in their state,
the mourners left to contemplate.
as we mourn not those yet to come,
why hold in sadness those now gone?
they lie, past sleep, in unknown grace,
oblivious to our grief and ache.
in the closing of our own life’s book,
we ourselves become unlooked,
and each cold memory once held close,
falls away: less than the dust.
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Comments about this poem (less than the dust by Christopher Withers )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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