Touching Death

-Touching Death-
by
Keaton Foster



On a pole
I don’t know
A creature
A winged seraphim
Not from Heaven
Not from Hell
But from in between
This cannot be just chance
Or reality at a glance
This is something more
Something
Unable to be ignored
His plumage, black
His eyes, lifeless
His size, frightening
His talons, like razors
A magnificent creature
In such a mediocre world
Often viewed with blinders on
I must take this chance
Because
Touching death
Comes along just once
I step much closer
Wanting to know
Wanting to understand
I speak the only question
That I deem fitting
Are you here for me
He does not reply
He remains motionless
Unable to resist
Again
I step much closer
So close that I could touch
Again I ask
Are you here for me
Again he does not reply
Wondrous is the mind
No answer means more
Than any that could be given
What if is as wide as it is deep
Uncertainty at times like this
Truly reigns supreme
I reach out my hand
Placing it upon his head
Downward I stroke
What I’m now sure
Is a physical representation
Of an undeniable end
Feeling both life and death
Is something not relatable
I cannot explain anything more
Nor would I dare
Just as quick
I removed my hand
On a pole
I don’t know
A creature
A winged seraphim
Not from Heaven
Not from Hell
But from in between
It turned and looked at me
A time and a place
Did I see
Spreading his wings
Allegorically he screamed
And I understood
So clear and so precise
He flew off in a direction
In opposition to me
And the remainder of my life…



Touching Death
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2013