Death is at the Door

Many people speculate about what happens after the end. But what about the period leading up to it? Is coming to terms with it a simple process of surrender, or does a struggle within us compel us to resist the unavoidable?

Death is at the Door delves into the concept of internal conflict in the face of the inevitable.

Tap, tap, tap, a rattle sounds through, A knock, a bang, a strike, a thud, A cold chill runs through the blood. A second, a third a fourth echoes true, Uneasy feelings deep in the core, For Death is crying at the door.

Time stands still, drums inside,

Like a perilous and terrifying ride.

Thoughts race and ideas fly wild,

An inner hyperactive child.

Is this it? is there no more?

For Death is crying at the door.

Only escape lingers in the mind,

Is there a place he can’t find?

Where will I run? Where will I hide?

From the figure lurking just outside.

The kitchen, bathroom, the bedroom, too weak,

An immature game of hide and seek.

Will the attic be safe? Or under the floor,

For Death is crying at the door.

The sounds of silence fill these halls,

Reverberating and distorting against the walls.

The fire cracks and breaks the spell,

Thoughts flood back like water into a well.

He saps the noise from everywhere,

With a cunning and malicious snare.

I cry for help, yet no noise lets out,

No substance at all to this shout.

Whispers, like tendril seep through the cracks,

Clawing and biting, about to attack.

Shadows on the walls advance then withdrawer,

For Death is crying at the door.

This can’t be all, this can’t be the end,

There must be a way that I can extend.

So much unsaid and so much undone,

Everything races, as a bullet from a gun.

How should I plead? More time I implore,

For Death is crying at the door.

There’s nowhere to go, I can’t get away,

I’m falling into the desperate cliché.

Panic comes forth, It’s all I can muster,

The seven stages fly by in a desperate cluster.

The end is here, it’s always been here,

Always around yet always unclear.

Resolution, acceptance and reflection outpour,

Now Death is crying at the door, no more.