What Death Took Poem by Cathe Ferguson

Death took more than fingertips and flex of wrist.
And much more than warm mouth and touch of lip;
it stole sand, the dust of man, the very gist.

It destroyed the hand, the way it moved the fist
and gave the instrument he played his grip
and bemoaned sweet melodies from flex of wrist.

Death claimed what’s tangible yet veiled in mist
and released the precious and let it slip
along with the heart, the soul, the very gist.

It strangled beauty and all that it had kissed
and every bud-to-be died in the nip
just as the rhythm withered with flex of wrist.

Death changed so many things; too many to list
and without a blink gave my heart a rip
draining everything from me; the very gist.

Now I’m left with just a shell, it’s all it missed.
Yes, death took him away with just one snip.
And without a backward glance, with flex of wrist,
it snuck in and snatched his life; the very gist.

(Writtten March 19,2006)