For the Love of Death

By hedgehog1

Sat, 24 Jun 2017
  • 568 reads
2 comments
 

Built by my father now falling all around me

This wooden house erected in time of peace

I live in solitude on this windswept hill; I'm sat

Watching the rain far in the west, wild rain

Beating its way to me remembering I must die

For then I will hear not the rain, or feel its power

My mother and my father now departed; loneliness

 As flashes of youth pass through my mind

Returned from war one leg missing, I pray

That no one I loved in war is dying tonight

Sitting here, in solitude listening to the rain

I think of them still there in Flanders Field

Like corn in the field scythed down, broken bodies

Lying there and still the rain pours down

Like me who this rain has borne to mortal ends

I sit and wait for the love of death, if love it is

As does not my maker tell me it won't disappoint?

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Comments

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Interesting thoughts threading.

The last line reminds me of Paul saying, 'For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain … to depart and be with Christ' (Philippians 1:21,23) indicating that, trusting in him, there is fruitful labour now, though often wearisome like the rain, but certainly a wonderful eternity after 'crossing the river'! Rhiannon

 

Submitted by hedgehog1 on

Rhiannon, I know very little about scripture and I appreciate the way you have interpreted my poem.

Edward