The Carriage

Because I could not stop for Death, she kindly stopped for me; the carriage held but just ourselves and immortality. -Emily Dickinson

The carriage came its doors ajar

And I did spy within that car

The alabaster hand of Death

Her trembling finger pointed west

With ring of jade and inlaid pearl

She overlooked this wide-eyed girl

Who held on tightly to the earth

Chanting that I’ll have rebirth

You mustn’t stop for me my dear

Yet I know you will be here

Upon this arid desert sand

You will return to point your hand

When it is the time for you to gather

This poet’s bones of alabaster

I will not know it’s time for sleep

For I have promises to keep

Yet I will feel the hoof beat’s thunder

And be completely torn asunder

At the thought of letting go

You’ll take my hand and then bestow

That sentimental kiss of death

Emphatically you’ll take my breath

As you take me to a land

Arid and forsaken

©Kay Salady


About Kay Salady

I write about the greatest force on earth that, I believe, lives on forever and surpasses all else. "All your poems read like I am watching an artist use words instead of colours full of feeling." ~Anon.

Posted on April 24, 2012, in poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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