Death Is Never An End Poem by Mark Heathcote

Death Is Never An End



My heart is a snake
that consumes its self
from head to tail
and if it somehow fails
endeavours to remove
each-and-every scale
slip beneath your skin,
and ingest your heart
munch on your soul
just ever so slowly from within.

Oh, my faith
don't-leave me now
take-me to Budapest
to the River Danube,
there I will build a bridge
that crosses two distant shores
there I will plant and grow
my own, World Tree
and the universe the cosmos
will one day, just-be-my canopy?

But here sometimes I'm a tree
on a rocky outcrop
roots searching for purchase
in the silts and clay
probing examining the forest
what more can I say?
I know of an Ash tree
whose every sinew writhes
in this celestial, terrestrial soil
whose heart never dies?

Death Is Never An End
Saturday, January 20, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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