Wilderness

"Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself." (J.K. Rowling)

This is a poem about inner states of mind in a deteriorating body, but in a symbolic, existential form. I'm not explaining it more than that, but it is reflecting on someone I know, and the journey into death. Death is the great taboo in our society, and euphemisms exist - passed over, passed away, passed on,  and it can be sudden and unexpected - and that (I speak from experience) is so painful. But equally painful is the slow loss of facilities, mental acuity, physical ability, and watching a loved one slip away, not peacefully, but with some distress. This is a time of entering the wilderness.

Wilderness

A voice: time to prepare the way
Struggling, gasping for breath,
Comes the remorseless day
Twilight of life, shadow of death

And yet in the wilderness, a voice
Long days, lonely days, and no cure
A crooked path, but not by choice
And still be waiting, still endure

Weariness, waiting, for all to cease
The story unfolding towards an end
The dove descending, sign of peace
The shadowlands that here portend

Prayers in the ever darkening night
Like a small candle, burning bright