Touched By Death Poem by Deborah White

I have touched death and death has touched me.

Quiet, still, motionless; just simply lying there.
Subdued reasoning hidden, hushed, and yet
still aware. Waiting and watching, an inky gaze
burning into me. A harsh, black cold, piercing
deliberate stare; reflective sightless pools that
drank through ice cold lashes.
I felt the beckoning and I just turned away.

Darkness shrouded, watching without seeing.
Weightless detached limbs slowly lifting, leaving
me. Sanity tingled, shifting, flimsy and dampened.
Then magnified, with all thoughts vanished.Still no
fear just wondering; was it real? The anaesthetist
couldn't say, just took some scribbled notes and
walked thoughtfully away.

Then the panic rising like smoke from a fire,
like bread baking. Fear burning in hot toasted
sockets. An electric terror sparked, unearthed,
horrified at what might have, could have been.
I knew I didn't want to leave life's living dream.
I didn’t want to go somewhere I had never known
or ever seen.

Death the suitor, thank you but no, I guess I was
really not that keen, I had another place to go;
Somewhere I would much rather be. I knew I
wasn't ready to say goodbye, and I didn't want
to lie down and die. Not quite yet anyway, I had
something to do, and special people to see.
So I will live to depart this life another cold day.

Nice to meet you I am sure, but my world is here
not elsewhere. And I would much rather I stay.