Death Poem by David Harris

Death wavers above our heads
like the sword of Damocles,
waiting for the moment
when we are unaware
to strike and cut us down.
We know not when nor want to know.
Better, it come in the silence of the night
when we will not be aware
then we will not fight
until the inevitable end.
Just rest our head in sleep
the long cold sleep of death.

25 January 2011


Author’s Note:
I wrote this dark piece on hearing the passing of a second friend within a week.