Death

• Shade Doyle, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2014

Many a person is afraid of death,
Of the all-consuming fear as the slender threads that hold us to life fray and break.
People say you will go the heaven, hell, Le Ciel, Enfer, Hölle, Himmel, Nebo or Pecklo,
But the truth is all the same. Death is the ending of life,
The demolishment of a body that's grown to old and weak.
The fracture of a mind that's lost all sense,
The cracking of a heart that's experienced to much grief.
Our bodies die, but our energy moves onto another. Someone with a life to live. The time that we selfishly hang onto life is time wasted for someone with a future ahead of them.
All for a petty fear of the unknown, we waste another's life,
We waste the worlds resources, when we only carry a pit of grief with us, something we loathe beyond hate.
We don't know what happens after death.
Perhaps there is no longer a beginning, present and end.
Perhaps we float in space or darkness,
Or lay forever more in our graves, until all that's left of us is a speckle of dust.
If there's nothing after death, there's nothing more to grieve.
We won't miss the life we once had,
or the people we once knew.
Death is a mystery.