Crossing Over


hallway pd

They spoke of crossing over. The nebulous                                                                                       abyss where flesh                                                                                                                                             meets ellipsis where all                                                                                                                                       is suspended  yet worlds                                                                                                                                   create a spectrum of                                                                                                                                       connected                                                                                                                                                           mind.

Do you miss them?

I do, I said. And I know for I have lost many.

Brought down in candlelight clean white                                                                                             hospital sheets silent drip                                                                                                                               padded sneakers of nurses in the hall.

I care for dusty remnants                                                                                                                                     fresh flowers                                                                                                                                                       moss covered stone.                                                                                                                                           Urns and ashes                                                                                                                                                       dates and places                                                                                                                                                     to remind me

of all

they have left





22 comments on “Crossing Over

  1. Wow, this is great! Very succinct take on death. I like the way you organized the poem visually on the page … almost as if to say that death rips the body apart, is not neat, and straddles different worlds, so it does not obey the typical layout. The accompanying image is great too!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks so much Darryl. Glad you liked this ‘rather disturbing’ thing hehe. I like to play around with the layouts — a bit of trick I ‘stole’ from ee cummings 🙂 I love your interpretation and it is true, about the messy and confusing phenomenon of death…

      Liked by 1 person

      • Ah yes, ee cummings was all over the place, in a good way. I like when people talk about death and confront it via any medium. Have you read/seen Fences (August Wilson)? I like this take on death. I also like Woody Allen’s take about how death is a bum/loser lol. Very therapeutic!

        Liked by 1 person

      • No, I have not seen or read Fences, I’ll have to check it out. Woody Allen is often so ironic and funny! Death is an important topic — it never bothered me to write or talk about it.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Fabulous Christine, a little unnerving too with the imagery it creates as I read : )

    Liked by 1 person

  3. afairymind says:

    Great poem, Christine. It’s morbid, as a look at death inevitably is, without being overly depressing. I love its structure. Really well done. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Wonderful and haunting, Christine!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Eerie and uncanny.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Vicky V says:

    Awesome! I love the layout too.


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