Is there a rhyme or reason to this shared experience of living? Is there a quiet understanding when we have lived, what happens after the final breath? Does death require reason? What if we can only fathom death and living from our own experiences? Saif and I try to tackle some of these questions about one of the most difficult topics, life and death.

Please take a moment to visit Saif page and read his work.

Life and Death in Haiku

By Saif

One thousand moons rise

Drag the oceans to my bed

Gin is dry at least

Her word was her bond

Freed like a dress in the wind

And dropped to his bed

A sapling rises

Amid a winter snowstorm

Death eyes bad timing

Purple tulip tall

The most beautiful of all

I killed the others.

Beautiful things die

Because I want to kill them

This is my power

Age steals memory

We forget the face of youth

Many deaths one life

Samurai have swords

The cowboy has his pistol

I possess a noose

Dear little sparrow

Carry away my sorrow

Let it crush you too.

A Lysol Sunrise

Rays disinfecting my dreams

Time to go to work

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A Death That Matters

By Dorie Snow

I want to be Ophelia.

Drifting slowly down the river

Flowers in my hair.

I want to drown out the sounds

Of the world’s cruel meanings.

In my garden limericks of truth

Intended to grow, but only decay

Freely flows.

Overcrowded brow tendrils of pain

My mind has slowly gone insane.

It wasn’t always this way

I lived carefree picking wildflowers

Singing pretty songs.

My eyes glimmered with promise,

My heart met every new dawn.

I ran barefoot in fields

Read poetry to the birds

I drank from the springs

The purest of substance

The dreams of prose.

I had dreams of grandeur

I had visions so enchantingly bright.

Then I met the man, tall, fair, and true

I wanted to share all of my secrets

All of my light, all of my sustenance.

We did the dance, merry lovers do

We ran away to fields brand new.

He thought boldly, strived and tried,

In his eyes fear he’d always hide.

I gave my all, everything I could

I stood beside him, all the way through.

He took my poetry, forced me to smile,

He gave me flowers that withered

Before their time, the birds stopped coming,

The spring ran dry.

I lost everything, the ability to cry.

I saw myself from withered disgrace

To fall below, lose my grace.

I no longer sing, sweet and clear

I sing mournful sounds for all to hear.

My garden shriveled, my heart with left

With no trace.

I tried to reach him, I laid it all bare,

In return my ripped gown

My broken limp hair.

To have lived so well,

eaten my fill of sun,

drunk beautiful wines,

sung love to the morning,

read verses to the birds,

explored wild meadows in a dappled glow

to become this ragged shell

of endless sorrowful snow

I want to be Ophelia, I want to be free

I flew so high, life surprised me.

I thought forever all would be grand

Only to return empty in my hand.

I will float in the river petals surround

My regret a lost whisper,

One final tear,

I’ll return to the beginning,

Life without sound.

Thank you for reading, we appreciate your time. Many Blessings.

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