Shehzeen Ahmad
I have stopped for Death
June 20, 2023 in English Poetry
I— I have stopped for Death!
I— am waiting for him
It’s nothing new, is it? No it is not,
for perhaps “he” for whom I ever waited,
always had a long- path-made longer to reach me back.
But I— I wait patiently, for what is to come;
even if it the beginning of eternity,
Or just another unnecessarily hopeful delay.
I have— have for sure, waited for life long enough.
So now I wait kindly for Death, the true man;
the one who would offer me what a woman desires;
he will offer me honor, and forever.
And when this wait ends, and death reaches me,
He will take me with grace, like I live.
He would kill my soul and give me life,
take away my pain, tell me no lie.
And when he offers me that love, that loyalty,
I’m going to make sure, I give away everything and give into his civility.
All my life, always, I’ve never been THE one;
I was always someone who filled a void of the one,
But I have faith, I just know, death will be the only one,
Who will fill the void I have, that’s slowly eating my heart.
And when he comes, I hope he makes me see,
the bleeding past, one last time:
From being the third friend who’s mocked
to being the easiest thing to give up;
I hope when he comes, he shows me all my sorrow,
And like Sagittarius A, it engulfs them all.
And bring me water of Lethe, fill me with love,
Give me a heart that knows no threat.
He would not be tired, would be?
In this eternal journey, no he would still not be tired,
I’m sure he will not, I’m sure this nobleman is my one.
Death comes once, so he’s my forever,
Death is my life, I’m sure he is my forever.
He would never be tired of bringing me comfort, of bringing me reassurance,
My death, would choose me.
He promised my forever, and he’s known for keeping promises he made.
In our journey of forever,
we’ll travel through the endless universe,
He’ll show me the Sun, the cosmic beauty,
And then take me beyond it,
To reach the world, created for us, that would be just like I like;
He is close all the time, isn’t he?
He must have made sure we live in greys,
He must be familiar with my compulsion,
My comfort in being gloomy.
He will let me adore the sunsets, and adore me like I’m sunshine,
And I will make him see the things I love, show him mirror and write for him.
We’ll make a house covered in ivy,
and God will bless us— Bless us with grey clouds
And would let us cry in each other’s arms,
until we fall asleep and the life begins.