About Me

Monday, June 4, 2012

The Carriage

Because I could not stop for Death, she kindly stopped for me; the carriage held but just ourselves and immortality. -Emily Dickinson

The carriage came its doors ajar
And I did spy within that car
The alabaster hand of Death
Her trembling finger pointed west
With ring of jade and inlaid pearl
She overlooked this wide-eyed girl
Who held on tightly to the earth
Chanting that I’ll have rebirth
You mustn’t stop for me my dear
Yet I know you will be here
Upon this arid desert sand
You will return to point your hand
When it is the time for you to gather
This poet’s bones of alabaster
I will not know it’s time for sleep
For I have promises to keep
Yet I will feel the hoof beat’s thunder
And be completely torn asunder
At the thought of letting go
You’ll take my hand and then bestow
That sentimental kiss of death
Emphatically you’ll take my breath
As you take me to a land
Arid and forsaken

 ©Kay Salady

No comments:

Post a Comment