Death

• Kathy Tran, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2009

Silently,
he combs his fingers
through the lush green blades of life,
setting it to flames

Silently,
he traipses the corridors
of the cemetery waiting room,
where stethoscope sporting minions
and nefarious needles,
intrude on the solace
of resigning heartbeats

Silently,
he dances by the trenches,
all haphazardly decorated
with a blood-red graffiti
and a contagiously
haunting nostalgia
that can be cured
with just one
bullet

Silently,
he smiles and waves
at the lifeless
uninhabited faces
that once loved
once laughed
once cried

Silently,
he exits the stage,
and as he does so,
he takes the silence with him
so that those that had survived
were free to screech and scream
under bereavement’s
silent grip