Angela Khristin Brown

Silver Star - 3,731 Points (January 5,1969 / Meridian Mississippi)

Repass - Poem by Angela Khristin Brown

As darkness, approaches, sad and dreary
Poor people mourn and are placed to rest
And death surmounts in calmness
We all question death, unaware of when it calls
We dream of dying the same. The owl asks, "Whose next."
Death is a secret only God knows by choice
Death is a trap of sleep that we won't wake from
We mourn, poor or rich, scared of what happens after we die
Waiting our calling from a rooster, an echoing horn
When a hearth plays, we die, but life continues. There is work
To be done, yet, we honor his calling
Things remain unchanged. Often after death, we fail
To visit our dead
When we die, people remember the good times you shared
When we die, people remember the good times you shared
When we die, we are not envied, and we celebrate death
To be cremated is not as valued, to turn to ash and put on an urn
We celebrate the rising of the death a funeral, but after we are buried, we forget the dead by not returning to the grave to honor those that went before us
We neglect the dead repressed with rage and time is frozen
Life is beautiful and death is unseen. When we die our spirit dies
Rich or poor we should be remembered to rest in peace
Rich or poor we should be remembered to rest in peace
Regardless, we are the virtuous, the criminals, the swines, the wealthy. God shows mercy on us all
The hidden truth about death is hidden in guilt and shame of being judged to determine self-worth
In death, our presence is taken for granted because we are judged
The dead should plant their seeds to nurture and grow their memory
The dead should not be a forgotten selfish love, but that of hope
To grow in the image of mourning under a tree celebrated with others in green pastures of marked stones of hope
When we die, our image is reborn into a repass and remembered as an old wise aged thorn of wealth
And the holy ghost determines our fate into heaven
We should plant our seeds so we will be remembered
Because your image crosses over to love
An your image will welcome others reinventing life
After death. And you will be reborn as an old wise thorn

Topic(s) of this poem: life, love


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Poem Submitted: Friday, August 23, 2019



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