Strange Days

Strange Days
　
Strange days have come into our lives, the oddity of death
waiting for the inevitable waiting for the last breath
feeling blue and melancholy trying just to carry on
the pattern of life disrupted, we must let go of our loved one
life is a ritual of being, facing death all ritual is nil
simply just existing now slipping out of consciousness, losing will
can’t get a grip on this, can’t understand the purpose
don’t want to face this thing, can’t take the morose
tried to reason it all out, can’t see through the haze
life and meaning blurred, you walk around in a daze
maybe death should be a mystery, maybe we shouldn’t know
that way like the seed in the ground, in death we truly begin to grow

Leon Guzdzial
Copyright 2006

 

thats cheered me up Uncle Jed

thanks LOL?

Steve
PS - its well composed Sir

 

Well, I wrote it after my mother-in-law died. I wrote one after my father and brother-in-law died also. I guess it is my way of releasing my sadness. I write poetry so it was a natural thing to do. I thought others may relate.

Here is the one I wrote about my father;

The Man We Love
Taking him for granted when we were young
Scarcely remembering all the birthday songs song
When you’re young, you see him tall and strong
You can’t be convinced he could do any wrong
He provided, he had the strength of will
With a firm hand he disciplined, we loved him still
When we got older we challenged as children are inclined
But still at supper time, we all dined
Sometimes wrestling with who he was
He always seemed steadfast in the cause
A cause I guess we just couldn’t grasp
The thought of him leaving some day caused a gasp
Then the years went on, we all grew
One by one we bid him adieu
Living our lives, paying visits just to talk
Get an ice cream or just go for a walk
On our own but still seeing him from time to time
Knowing he was still there gave reason to the rhyme
And then one day, the inevitable news does arrive
Not much longer will your father be alive
So you start to make the most of the time that remains
And pray he won’t suffer with too many pains
And as you see him slowly slipping away
You realize your love and for this love a price to pay
You pay the price for loving someone so much
You can’t bear him leaving, no longer able to touch
But the man on his back is not the one who sang
The one who stood tall in church as the bells rang
Now, a man in a worn out body being called by God to come home
No longer upon this earth will he roam
Called to come home, be refreshed and find rest
We must bid him farewell for he has done his best
Thank you Father for relieving him from this worn out state
Now with you a new man you create
Copyright, 1997
Leon Guzdzial