Another poem about death. I don’t feel scared about ‘the not being here anymore’. I think like most people its the cause of death that brings the fear. I did think, as I got older that I’d want to be awake as much as possible…at the moment, it doesn’t seem to be the case. Of course, I am well aware it would only take a change in circumstances to alter how I feel.

Artwork – “Sleep and his half-brother Death” by John William Waterhouse 1874

HYPNOS AND THANATOS

“Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

If I should sleep and never wake

I pray the Lord my soul to take.”

Anon.

As I approach my allotted three score and ten

I am expected to rage against the coming dark

And surely cherish each last-lived minute;

Eking out existence as my life ticks away

And takes leave like sand between cinched glass.

Every morning when I make the bed

I look at my plumped-up pillow with such longing.

Eager to be in its embrace once more

I almost wish the day away,

To hold it in my arms one more time.

Should I welcome insomnia as a reason

To further live the last gasped moments of my life?

I feared death far more when I was younger

More likely the horror of having a life unlived

And yet now, each night, I welcome Hypnos

Into my bed, “A calm and gentle god”

To which we mortals surrender a third of our lives.

The entrance to his dark cave in the underworld

Is adorned by sleep-inducing poppies.

Maybe he is preparing me to meet

His twin brother Thanatos, the death who,

In his cave next door, awaits us all.

Will I be poppy-led to my desire,

Supping the syrup of a good demise,

Encouraging me to look forward to it…

Easing the transition?

©graylightfoot