Monday, May 10, 2021

Rena J. Worley


I sit in expiring shadow
For I no longer walk
Gnarled tree trunk rough
Against my heavy head

I labor numb to expanding cold
Retreated feeling
Leg and arm and hand attempt
Only to fail demanded movement

I struggle blinded to black
Behind gaping eye-lids
Worldly colors erased
By foretelling forfeiture

I strain deaf to other heartbeats
Forsaken love and friendship
Acres away from past attachments
Alone I forge my end

Or do you, Reaper’s imp, snicker beside me?

Yes, I titter and shroud you in shadow
After stalking miles of time
Caress your heavy head
Pinch your chilling cheek

I remain indifferent
Lost sense complaints familiar
My glowing opaque eyes mimic
Smiling thick red lips

I dance unrestrained
Atop decaying leaf
And anticipate your invitation
Await your gaze upon my crimson stain

Death befriends the lonely
Yet you hesitate to own my confidence
Emerge reluctant shade
Shallow breath now squeezed to silence

Do you think you can ignore me?

R.J. reads "Finis":

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R.J. confesses: "Faced with death, must we follow the first afterlife specter that seeks us out? When acknowledging the grave, if the initial apparition creates suspicion and repulsion, should one blindly follow without serious consideration of this inescapable decision? The wise might delay, hopeful of an alternative offer into the next step."

RENA J. WORLEY is a Word Artist residing in rural Michigan. She negan publishing in the Five-Two on May 27, 2019.

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