“What do we say to the God of Death?”

“Not today.”

–from “Game of Thrones” (The Battle of Winterfell, S8, E3)

A strangled in-breath at an unwelcomed, forbidden touch by a friend, underneath the bed.

A numb paralysis in the presence of a beaten mother and a raging father, in the kitchen at three in the morning.

A desperate effort to break the surface of the Animus’ icy waters, as the rapids envelop again and again.

A last breath of a comatose father, and an eerie stillness of a deceased mother.

O Death, I hear you ringing. I feel your frightening carass. If you declare this my time, then “today is a good day to die.”

But the day is not yet done.

summer wind

the basil sits

in sun and shadow

and all I can do is live

“one day at a time”

for 6/15/19: Gerrymuse–Death, I hear you ringing.

#tankaprose #tanka #micropoetry #poetry #Gerrymuse