DEATH Poem: SALIENCE, by Évah Myles Mitchell

I died that day. A piece of me fell. Collapsed. Transformed into a primordial; sucking the tears of my crying soul. What was left of me? Death? Wallowing to avoid the joys of life – attempting to keep myself anything but grounded. I never wanted to be alive until I nearly died at the hands of someone else. Until my oxygen hit 92 : lying on a stretcher : getting wheeled in an ambulance. Is that possible? Is that sane? Am I sane. When I stared at the man poking my arm with a needle to make sure I was still alive, to make sure i bled. If I bled, therefore I was.

Author: poetryfest

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