Our Mortality Poem by Jeremy Nel

From dust were we created
Says our Lord, who gave us life and form
Alas to dust He will us return
And as our souls frolic in heav’n
On earth those left behind, our dust will mourn.

In thy womb was I conceived, dear mother
And shielded there till birth
Thou guarded me as would no other
Coaxing laughter from my mirth
And drying tears flowing from my fears.

And now, as old age has approached
Thy body has begun to show the wrack and ruination
The strains from life and living in thy eyes reflected
The hardship and the tribulation in thy memory graven
But, alas, so too be the damage from the smoke.

Oft we admire the grandeur of the ruins
Was once a stately home they say
That over time through whate’er causes
Now lie before us in decay
So too with age our bodies at the edges fray.

But dear mother with abuse I fear
Your body has done more than fray.
Alas, it has started to unravel
So slowly now life uncoils from you each day
To melt away. Life in each precious little droplet.

We love you dearly mother
It is unbearable to watch this slow decay
Rends at our hearts. Our sorrow silently we bear
Unshown, now it we have to hide and not relay
To thee as once we carefree could proclaim.

Had but ne’er that grey smoke
Lurched into thy lungs from that white wand
So elegantly in the fingers twirled
As unknown the poison with thy lungs did bind
And thus thy body had infested and decayed

Now, as you strain for each breath of air
Through those same lips that sucked the smoke
The fingers that held the cigarette with flair
Now frail, lies listless fitfully to jerk
As your body heaves, desperate to breath.


I know the Lord again will take
Your body which he did make
To return it then to dust
As we all must
Then to lift your spirit up to heav’n

But ere He does that, I fear
You still have so much to suffer
And endure down here
Before He calls you back
To where suffering will ne’er appear.

Could but I be thy substitute
And bear thy suffering for thee!
To ease thy burden as did thou do for me
When I was but a child in thy embrace
So that, for a while even, thy pain will ease.

Oh! Dear mother have some sleep
Till it is time for thee to be at peace
I know not which sorrow will run most deep
To know thy pain is permanently eased?
Or to watch thee suffer with every heave?