RETURN TO DEATH

Return to Death



Death is bound by set appointment, but may accept foolish invitation.
I called him by un-calculated chance, gullible greed, instinct abandoned.
A coin spun from a bearded mans hand fell side unknown in his sweating grasp.
He fancied my small slender frame would slip easy through his kitchen window.
His ruse was the key. Youthful ignorance, the promise of silver.
I accepted.
Then lifted by shaking hands through the portal,
I climbed precarious over dirty dish and empty bottle.


I rushed to the door expecting hero’s bounty, but it swung open,
by his own hand.
Sealed by his large frame, the sound of heavy breathing,
was his.
Mine had stopped suddenly.
Staring at me.
Staring as time dilutes.
A dissonant expression conflicts, but penetrating eyes affirm intention.
Terror comes slowly, like ever tightening choke.
Soon becomes crushing.
The hope of misinterpretation melts.
Evaporates.
Cascades from me like vapour, and escapes the filthy room.
Still unspoken.
Paralysed.
Broken.
And there I am cast to malleable stone.
While heavy eyes swell with the silent tears of a suffocating boy.


I Happen to a familiar place.
Unnaturally dark, as though a negative of itself.
A presence beside me.
The shape and substance forbid mortal description.
A feeling I may have conjured.
Cautiously drawn.
Death.
In all his shackled power.
Explains,
without linguistic obligation.
Unnatural departures may sue covenant, and broker morbid mortgage.
The Reaper offers his bargain.
I can return to life again, if I leave something behind.
A deposit un-kind.
Death can only call once, so I must be compelled to return to him.


So Death took Happiness from me.
Swallowed it down to the swirling depths of his ravenous river.
Where it lay as though a pearl amongst the jaded pebbles.
And I was returned to the loving arms of my world.
I can still feel joy, excitement, love, and involuntary laugh.
But gone as quickly as formed
Morsels I hunt can never sustain.
I greedily devour all without satiation, then too soon, return to myself.
Feeling nothing,
sensing everything,
I pay tribute to your tempers so I may pretend I still exist.
And for this they call me addict.
A badge attached by de trop pin,
through lapel,
then sharp through skin.


Memories buried,
may delay insanity.
But the ghosts of them plot freedom and sing.
Sounds I can’t shut out.
Seeping down to childish dens.
Unprotected.
Torment is everywhere.
Real or imagined?
Slurping, scratching, licking, chewing,
sucking.
All claw through my skull and drip into bleeding scars.
Searching.
Provoking.
Unlocking.
Pain fires ferocious anger.
Fight over flight.
I am Deranged to eradicate those rasping encroachers.
And dread the conceivable horror that I will cause the summoning of Death for another.


I do not fear Death,
for we are aquatinted.
I died when I was 9 years old.
His pitiful pact only expunged my murder.
Twas' the second act of that clouded callous day.
Act one remains for me to play in the theatre of my dreams.
And I am imprisoned on the stage it has been set.

I wear this mask,
so cold,
so heavy.
Obstructing truth and poisoned beauty.

Detached,

by doleful touted duty.
It was my choice.
Everything a choice,
and consequence lurks in the shadows of them all.
No,
I do not fear death.
For I will one day remove my mask,
and call him again.
I know the price of happiness.

NOTES
Thank you for reading 'Return to Death'

I appreciate this is a dark, potentially upsetting, heavy piece to read, and poetry being entirely subjective can be interpreted in different ways by different people. I would just like to to give some perspective to some writing decisions in order that you may see what the narrator refers to in a few key points.

The choice to break up/separate certain lines is deliberate, and is NOT supposed to show a pattern to reference any particular shape (calligram) It is an attempt to help ease the reading of this poem. I hope it is not too distracting, I am in two minds about it.

You will be glad to know the traumatic experience is not graphically explained, because apart from being too traumatising, it is unnecessary.

The narrator feels they have had to give something away in order to come back to life after the trauma, Their 'Happiness' This also refers to their mind blocking the events from their memory as a coping strategy however, throughout their life, being tortured by specific sounds that take them back to the incident. This has severely damaged their mental health to the point they have become an addict. The addiction is not specified, but reference to a badge they have been forced to wear, 'de trop' (unwanted) pin, being pinned to them so deeply it goes 'sharp through skin' will of course refer to a 'needle'. for drug addiction. But it also goes for any addiction that this badge has 'penetrated them'. for example mention of 'Morsels can never sustain & 'greedily devour without satiation' can be referencing an eating disorder, or indeed any addiction.

Their memories are buried but haunt their dreams and certain sounds/noises hint and torment them to unlock the event feeling they are driven insane. So they cope by addiction. 'I pay tribute to your tempers' They react to other peoples moods to act like they fit in or 'are normal' , because they no longer feel any real emotions and have to pretend to play along.

I want to make clear that the 'choice' they made is nothing to do with the victim blaming themselves for the traumatic event. The narrator blaming himself 'I called him' firstly, extends to the poor choice of agreeing to help a stranger gain access to their house, in return for money. The perpetrator is never mentioned or referenced again because they are not important to the aftermath of these events. The choice refers to the narrator feeling they could never be happy again and must have given their 'happiness' away, in a perceived bargain with Death. The narrator does blame himself, as victims often undeservingly do, but for the understandable choices he has made to deal with the trauma (Unspoken) and NOT the incident itself.

Further, this is not a suicidal narrator at the end of the poem. In contrast they feel they have power over Death. (note the final use of 'death' is not capitalised) And THEY will choose when to call him again. Until then they are acknowledging that 'coping' with the trauma requires a mask that some victims of traumatic events can hide behind. The 'Choice' again refers to the fact they KNOW they can choose to continue being affected negatively by the experience or make the difficult 'choice' to get help to get through it. Otherwise, for them at least, they may as well call for death because this is no life (granted that is also their choice) This is what I was going for, although poetic licence allows me of course to be ambiguous, for it is up to you dear reader, how you choose to interpret the poem.

Thank you again for reading, I only make these above points as I have had feedback about them by some and feel it is best to clarify.