Here death is a vulture:
devours face and memory,
claws at carrion, feeds on fullness
like life was flesh,
fit for the taking.
But life is a million
intangible moments, all
dazzling and passing
in Eden-sunk grief
and Life won't go silently,
fighting reduction,
while Death - old materialist -
denies Life ever was.
We have seen it, and held it.
We bear its witness.
We stroke its unresponsive hand
and pray to beg it back.
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Published by Matthew Pullar
Teacher, writer, blogger, husband, father, Christian. Living in Wyndham in Melbourne's west, on the land of the Kulin Nation. Searching for words to console and feed hearts and souls.
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