Pardon My Thanatopsis
Pardon my thanatopsis, however
Bleak it may seem. Excuse me if, in
My eyes, Death not be a victory, for
My first true encounter with it came with
No warning, no regard, and no ease.
The hand which pens these words once felt love and
Concern for so troubled a kinsman, so
Much so that this hand folded with its match
In prayer for the kinsman's angry soul
For two years that he would accept the Gift.
Such prayers of intercession, and of
Petition, and of greatest hope for his
Security and safety! Day by day,
Thoughts of the kinsman sang out in the heart
Of this persistent-and somewhat fearful-
Youth. Were these prayers of any avail?
Darkness shrouded one rainy autumn night,
Covered the vast metropolis, and
Bore down on the shoulders of the kinsman's
Family. Darkness heightened the cries of
This youth's queries: "Why here, and why now? Why?"
The hand which pens these words once held the cold,
Clammy, jaundiced hand of the kinsman. But
This hand could not feel Death tighten its grip
On the kinsman; for one does not believe
That one can die at such a tender age.
This youth, once so faithful in prayer, now
Feels anger, hate, and grief all combined for
The kinsman, having unraveled his once
Concealed, carefully crafted, tangled web
Of lies. New questions arise without end.
"Where is my kinsman? Where does he reside?
Is he being eternally embraced?
Is he being smothered to no end, or
Forever burning? Is he loved always,
Or is he alone?" So many questions…
This youth takes these questions to heart, asking
The One-the only One-who has all the
Answers. But unanswered they remain, as
This youth must understand that all will be
Revealed in good and proper time very soon.
Impatience and confusion envelope
This youth's now truly broken heart; anger
Rises and boils for the kinsman, for his
Deception, for his guise, for trading his
Loved ones for a poisonous illusion
Of fun. "How dare he," asks this youth. "Does he
Not know the results of his acts, that he
must pay, that all must pay? Limbo is not
Real, and purgatory is but a lie.
There are only two options: life or death
For all eternity!" This youth's shattered
And aching heart screams these words over and
Over and over again, screams, "Why? Why?
Why?", until the cries cease, and a still, small
Voice whispers, breathes words into this youth's heart:
"I have heard all your prayers, your urgent
Cries. Keep faith, hold fast; your questions will be
Answered in due time. I know you harbor
Much anger and bitterness and sadness.
Please remember-the choice was his, not yours."
Pardon my thanatopsis, however
Changing it may be; for mourning is an
Indefinite process with no precise
End. And this is certain: Death is a part
Of all life. How and when we pass is beyond
Our control. But where we pass to-this is the
Choice facing every soul.
Emma Harrison, age 17
March 28, 2010