Garden Of Death (Recommended) Poem by Ridah Ellahi

In the garden of death,
I stand tall.
My head held high,
Where all hope usually falls.

I take a step forward,
But my feet seem to falter.
My mind set on a goal.
My path I shall not alter.

The wind blows against my face,
Cuts my skin like a knife.
My eyes search the barren desert,
For any sign of life.

I can’t seem to look past,
All the blood that surrounds me.
Closing my eyes and trying to push it away,
But the screams have still bound me.

The shackles of thorns,
Hold me to this place.
I try to go back,
I try to find my own face.

I am lost and afraid,
Tired and alone.
The mere thought of the massacre,
Makes me shiver to my bones.

I try to let myself free,
But the chains bite deeper.
I will not let my agony show,
Won’t show that I’m weaker.

Somewhere in the distance,
I hear his sound.
But I can not see him,
There is no one around.

He calls out to me,
And I try to go near.
But I’m being strangled by something.
Something called fear.

Fear of seeing him again.
Fear of seeing him here.
Fear of having him so close,
Fear of having him so near.

I close my eyes,
And try to block his sound.
Dwelling in the darkness,
Thinking no one is around.

Finally an end to his screams.
Finally an end to his pain.
With that I stand here again,
My happiness washed and drained.

I look around,
At the thorns that decorate this place.
Everyone seemed so consumed,
Trying to win an imaginary race.

I lie here now,
With my eyes closed.
A smile on my face,
Didn’t lose, I wasn’t one of those.

Hanging on to the memory,
Of the time that is now gone.
With a sweet surrender,
I say goodbye, but not for long.

Once in the garden of death,
I had stood tall.
My head was held high,
Where hope would usually fall.