epitaph of the Living Dead

This body hurts. This body cries. Wondering why its life cant be sustainable like other bodies. It wonders why it was chosen to live in the dead zone.

One illness after another, is it paying for past sins before it passes from this earth? Or was it chosen to test the innermost depths of its being?

Thirsty, numb, pain, all associated with its existence. Does it go on? Does it surcome to the ravages of its fate? Maybe it will fight for another day, maybe it wont. Who knows?

The strength the body felt so many years ago, now feels like a distant dream. Did it exist? Was it but a mere daydream interrupted by the reality we call disease?

Can't imagine the pain of the disease inside, can't take the violence shooting through the mind. Unleashed rage, pounding fear into the innermost regions of the heart.

Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet, let it not be a death but completeness, let strength melt into memory and pain into songs.

The body, not worthy, not of any value. It learns to stop feeling, but hopes for a life in the after. Will it be recognized and loved anew?

Will it be looked upon in a demeaning manner only to live eternally in its fate. Who knows? Here for a single hour in the wide starlight We shall be happy, for the dead are free.

Written by: Belinda Taylor 5-29-10
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