Raising The Dead Poem by Brian Taylor

Because I cared,
I kept my friends alive
bathed in the light
of the good times we had shared.
But going back to compare
the in-between times too, I see
they have given up the fight
(together with the good times we had shared) .
Even the ones who still breathe!
(Especially the ones who still breathe) .

It wasn’t old Mortality
that carried them away.
They just seem to have slid into senility
and let their hearts decay.

They have accepted the walls
constructed for old age
with a semi-serious intention
for a senior citizen’s pension
(that rapidly disintegrating cage) .

At the Judgement Hour
when they have power
and the necessity to choose,
each finds
that this is what it means to die.
Supine among the debris of their minds,
they give a semi-intentional,
highly conventional
sigh
and press “Snooze”.