(20 September 1928 - / Hamden / Connecticut)

And I Died...

On that day, in that moment, I died
Lost everything in one fell swoop
One slip of the tongue and that was it
I died

There was a moment when I thought it was okay
That I hadn’t done anything wrong and it would be alright
That it would not matter what I had said, but it did
So I died

The spark faded from my eyes and I could feel my tongue growing dry
The life seeped out of me and drifted away on the wind
My last breath caught in my throat
And I died

It was a dream, just dream, it never really happened
I have woken up and everything’s fine
But wait, it can’t be, you look at me so, then I realise
I’m dead

It was such a small thing I said, nothing more than a whisper
But it has given me a lifetime of pain, and now I don’t care
Recklessly running, screaming, desperate to get away, but I can’t
Because I’m dead forever, I will never escape it
That secret that I can never take back
Killed me

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 1 votes ) 13

Other poems of REBEL (56)

Comments (13)

The daily routine of the old man beautifully portrayed.
'An Old Life' when Jane was still alive and what he did to pass the day. All his small actions are nothing compared to 'engagement with the one task and desire'. Caring for Jane.
I always feel like I am free like a bird in the sky after reading your poems. Your poems are gift to this site. 10 marks
He speaks to the writer in us- we have our routine, it prepares us for the retreat to the desk and the task before us- writing that poem, that short story, that novel. Absolutely nailed us whether we follow his routine or one uniquely our own!
It's a wonderful picture, how he only needs travel, coffee cup in hand, a short distance to his life's calling; each day another segment of the monument to living. His wife, Jane Kenyon, was a fantastic poet also.
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