Death is Riding in a Strange Car

11 Aug

Death is never truly an ending.
I’m just going to hitch a ride
down to the coast- that is all.
I am still me, and you will
still be you.

The live we lived together is
still as it always was soft
and perfect like the morning
dew my feet are bathed in
as I walk on through our
old front yard- my rucksack
on my back.

I’ve just stepped out for a
little while- we are still
to each other what we always
were. Remember me and know
I’m never that far. Please
no tears- only laughter
and mirth will I accept.

I’m on the highway now. My
thumb is out, and my ride
I know is coming. Soon I’ll
be down at the shore-
breathing in the ocean mist.
You still mean exactly what
you meant to me before.

Please, remember that this
death is not an ending to
anything. It is just a
ride for me. I am no ghost.
I am not shadow. Nothing
stops truly- I’m waiting
just down the road a bit.

I’ll be here just waiting,
nothing has been broken.
I might be out of sight,
but know that I am well.
And here, now, is my pale
coach… door opening…

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2 Responses to “Death is Riding in a Strange Car”

  1. chrisineedstoshare October 19, 2011 at 2:29 am #

    This made me cry and I had to read it again, and I cried again because I truly had understood it from the first.

    • mattspotentialpoetry October 19, 2011 at 2:37 am #

      Wow, thanks for such a profound compliment- it really means a lot. I wrote this piece when there was a lot of death going around, and I wanted in my own way to assuage the many friends who had been visited by that old pale specter. Peace.

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