A three-sonnet sequence depicting Death. |
Sonnets, written for a class. The pressing silence made her want to scream. The leaves that seemed to hold their breath outside Her window pane were waiting for a beam Of light, or fright perhaps, to drift inside. A silhouetted figure on the lawn, Adrift in fluid haze, it seemed to float Toward her frosted window, traveled on Through drenching, swirling mist, a cursed boat. The cold crept through her blanket to her bones, The piercing chill of fear and dread and death. The crushing stillness, set in solid stone, Unbearable alone with bated breath. Her eyes flew open, terror’s swiftness tripped. But open eyes send nightmares to the crypt. She went about her day like walking dead, Exhaustion sweeping through her broken soul. She knew it was beyond her own control What happened in her nightmares, in her head. But this one seemed so real, she wondered then If it was more than that – a prophecy Of horrifying things to come that she’d Encounter in the future once again. She shook her head to rid it of the thought. Ridiculous of me, she mused instead; A dream’s a dream, it’s not reality. But as she brushed her teeth that night she fought Away the terror in her lonely head Of glowing eyes that stared amongst the trees. The icy stare of death did not release Her eyes from living terror as she lay Awake that night; she longed for blessed peace To kill the nightmare leading her away. The ghastly hand commanded she obey And touched her arm; a question caged within Her speechless soul unanswered, with dismay She cried inside. Her life was wearing thin. As goose bumps raced across her freezing skin, She wondered whether death was all that bad; If dying seems so cold when it begins Because the death itself is warm and glad. The eerie figure held her shaking hand And led her soul away with soft command. |