Tag Archives: dying

The Beast

By D. R. DiFrancesco

Red is the moon,
Supernatural in it’s beauty
Frightening in it’s difference,
A distant howl shatters the dead quite night.

A mid-summer chill gnaws at my bones,
Trees casting shadows black as pitch,
Swaying in an unnatural dance,
Again, the wolf’s howl pierces the darkness.

Myths of old dash through my mind,
Illusions fog my senses,
Feeling helpless in the sight of the unseen,
Hastening my step to reach safety, but why?

The sound of footsteps,
Intermingling, then silencing my own,
I stop to listen,
Nothing but the wind rustling invisible folliage.

Sweat beads on my brow,
Dripping in torrents,
Clouding my vision and stinging my eyes,
Lips chapping cold, salty, hard to breathe.

Strangeness strangles me,
The howls are closer now, more frequent,
I strain to maintain composure,
Certainly this must be in my head.

My pace quickens as does my heartbeat,
Trying to outrun the howl,
Peering wide-eyed, over left shoulder then right,
Limbs and briars tear at my flesh.

Staggering confusion overtakes me,
Nothing seems familiar or friendly,
Sounds magnified with my heightened sense of awareness,
Stumbling, disoriented, trembling with fear.

But why?
Could it not be a dog?
A pet gone astray?
They say dogs are man’s best friend.

Behind me, in front of me, the howl,
They’re close now,
Growls, deep and guteral snap me back,
From the four winds they come.

What unholy hell is this?
A thousand pairs of eyes track me,
Nowhere to hide,
Blood trails down my face.

Hard to breathe,
Running seems the only solution,
Turning in cirles,
Those eyes, those howls, surround me.

Shadows, they seem so alive,
Moving closer,
Trying to suffocate me where I stand,
Like hands clutching at my throat.

Running, gasping, stumbling,
Tears welling up in my eyes,
Falling, they are almost upon me,
Resistance seems so futile.

Stunned, my face to the ground,
Foul breath envelopes me,
It’s moisture surrounds me like a cloud,
Terror takes hold of my very being.

Crawling, dragging myself to my feet,
I turn, they lunge,
A fury of fur and fang,
What nightmare has thrust me into this hell!

Beasts converge from all directions,
Flesh ripped from bone,
Pain numbs me,
Knocked to the ground under a demon pile.

Eyes flash a ghastly shade of green,
My body being torn asunder,
Who would have believed werewolves were real?
I can scarcely hear my death scream.

Limp, bloody and beaten, movement escapes me,
I can feel satan breathing in my face,
In a snarl I can see his unnatural fangs,
Dripping in blood, they are poised for the kill.

This moment of clarity,
Staring the beast in the eyes,
He has won, I was never any match,
My throat his grand prize.

Blood flowing uncontrollably,
No longer able to speak,
I can feel my life force draining away,
No more pain, no more fear.

To those that may follow,
Myths are routed in reality,
By God werewolves are real!
Just ask what is left of me.

In Memorial

She is gone now,

Weeks have passed,

Shock is no more.

Resigned to the fact that we won’t see her again,

We won’t share coffee around the kitchen table,

Won’t share meals at the holidays,

Won’t see the warm smile,

Won’t see the pride in her eyes at our little accomplishments.

Grandmothers are someone taken for granted,

They were always there,

From our beginning,

Naively we think that they will never leave.

Still something deep in our hearts knows  its a lie,

We lie to ourselves because its easier than facing the truth.

The status quo easier to take than the pain,

But nothing can stay the same.

Parents become Grandparents,

Children, parents,

The eternal cycle repeats like a palindrome.

I don’t pretend to know what lay beyond this fragile life,

We pray to, hope for, obsess about an unseen God,

Holding steadfast to our faith,

Grasping with clenched fists to the fabric of what’s left of our existence,

Knowing that in time, we to, will meet our maker,

Whomever we conceive our maker to be.

In this, our soul finds consolation,

Finding peace in our belief in the unknowable,

Finding relief in the belief that this world is just the beginning,

That eternal life is not a myth,

But instead a promise of something greater,

Something greater than anything created in our mortal imaginations.

In this hope,

We find comfort.

In this hope,

We find peace.

As we pay our final respects,

In this hope,

You will not be forgotten.

Instead,

In this hope of heaven,

We say goodbye.

For the Love of Money (A Poem)

Do we know what heavens lie
Beyond those which we create for ourselves
Toiling to caress all that mortal wealth can acquire
Pushing aside that which is more precious.

Forage on with meaningless tasks if you must
Avoiding those to be held so dear
Putting distance between you and your loving child
For fortune and fame so fleeting.

You treasure that which lasts so briefly
Misguided steps divert your moral path
Placing that which is corporeal above what is sacred
Leaving family and friendships to suffer and drown.

Set opulence and copiousness in their proper place
Share abundance with those living in stark scarcity
Rekindle your union to spouse and child
For nothing in this world can be taken with you.

The Fox and Rabbit (A Parable)

By D. R. DiFrancesco

To keep the fox at bay

You scurry down the rabbit hole

Hiding behind your harvest of vegetables and fruits

A feeble attempt to prolong your existence

The fox is patient this much is true

Cunning and hunger are his advantage

Scared and indecisive you ponder what to do

“I’ve got it!” – you say

Thinking you can outsmart the fox

The fox waits, patient and quiet

You feign courage

Hopping from behind the store

Nose twitching and wriggling

You try to catch his scent

But the fox is clever and hides

You crawl out of your rabbit hole

Thinking, “If I’m fast he won’t catch me.”

As you hop out, the fox pounces

Your world goes dark.

The fox smiles, satisfied

He has done what nature intended

Hiding in your rabbit hole

With your horde of foodstuffs for protection

And still…

Greed and boastfulness could not save you.

A Personal Story, Is this Coincidence or Something Else?

I feel compelled to share a brief story with you  that has both touched me greatly and amazed me at the same time.

Yesterday afternoon I completed and posted a poem, “Wither Away“, that was a very personal poem about my grandmother.  Suffering with chest pains, she had been diagnosed with congestive heart failure about 4 months ago and her doctors gave her 6 months to a year to live.   The doctors also made it clear that there was nothing that they could do other than to prescribe medications to make her comfortable.

Initially after diagnosis she had more good days than bad, but of late the opposite was true and she became unable to get out of bed without being carried.   As you can imagine this is a very hard thing to watch happen to someone you love.

Now to my point.   Whether by fate, a premonition unrecognized by me, coincidence, or something else that I can’t explain I received a call from my parents last night to tell me that my grandmother had died early yesterday morning.   They chose to wait to tell me until I had gotten home from work so that I didn’t have this on my mind all day.

I know that this type of thing is not unheard of, but it does make me wonder how something as seemingly random as posting a poem could turn out to be so prophetic, at least to me anyway.  I guess it will just have to remain one of those strange occurrences that happens to a person during the course of their life.

My grandmother was 92 years old when she passed on.  I will miss her deeply.

T.G.M.

March 16, 1920 – June 7, 2012

Rest In Peace

Wither Away

By: D. DiFrancesco

The pain of watching one wither away
Indescribable and yet inescapable
Remembering how vibrant and energetic they were
We think they will never go away.

I can still see her
In the kitchen apron on making a meal
It doesn’t matter which one it was
They all are precious memories to me.

I was a child
She was everything to me back then
Eyes shining, the silkiness of her voice
These were some of my happiest days.

Then childhood passes
Like the sweep of the second hand
Harsh reality clings like beads of sweat
Those once so virile commence to fade.

We try to stave off the inevitable for as long as we can
But alas it proves useless
No magic elixer can halt the decline
How swift does frailty overcome us.

Her eyes have sunk into evenings dark abyss
The hunch in the back, a sign of a life of burden
Her stride gives way to a shuffle
The mercy of others her only salvation.

No longer able to self-sustain
Twilights arms embrace who she once was
A child returns from where it started
The circle of life incarnate.

Her mobility has vanished, now forever prone
But oddly the memories of her past are clear
Thoughts from more modern times she can’t remember
Eternities multitude is calling her home.

She’s withered away, her grace in passing inspires
In her destiny we see ourselves
We fear this most as our time here is finite
To our maker we must trust our mortal souls…farewell.