Chris's Death, like Everyone's

Music: Fugue in B Minor for Organ.
By J. S. Bach. Sequenced by Jim Michmerhuizen.

Subscribe to this site on Substack

Subscribe to this site on YouTube

Subscribe to this site on Medium

Follow this site on Facebook

Follow this site on Instagram

Alpha List

Philosophical
Poems

Teen Poems

About This
Site

Poems for
Free

Copyright by
Nicholas Gordon

Chris' death, like everyone's,
Comes just once a year,
Around the time when you might see him
Smiling ear to ear.

Suddenly life turns to dust,
Which then just blows away,
And everything from hope to joy
Lies naked to the day.

Pain seems insupportable,
And time crawls like a snail
Towards an endless nothingness
Before which all things pale.

The point? Ah, yes! There is no point.
It's all a mystery,
Why anything is here at all,
Or how Chris came to be.

And so he waits upon the cliff,
And once a year he dies,
While just behind him on the grass
A field of glory lies.

Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.



[about this site] [poems for free] [poem of the week]
[site policy] [about me] [links]