Death Comes Again by Cheryl Cudmore
April 25, 2008 by enochsvision
Death Comes Again
I am nothing.
I am empty.
God fills me with treasure.
I become something.
God shines on the gate
and the wall too.
Those with no heart
have a key to the gate.
No need to scale the wall.
They are orange lilies.
I’m a dark blue iris
above the ruddy cliffs.
The ring is my pupil.
Through it, I watch
and search for souls
lost in the breaking sea.
The lantern, a beacon,
revolves round and round.
During gales, the surf
whiplashes the wild roses.
Salt spray and perfume.
Battered bodies wash up
on the shore, too weak
to climb the rocky rise.
They are dragged to safety,
They cough up their brine.
These survivors enrich and
tend to the garden.
A reprieve from the shifting
storms of the mind.
They turn to the soil
and sow and prune.
They watch over the sea,
fling petals into the foam.
Then be nothing.
Create something.
Cheryl - April 2008
Cheryl Cudmore, Poet
I’m a native of Prince Edward Island, Canada and I’ve been a Bahá’í for twenty-four years. I write poetry and have had my poems published in four Bahá’í print periodicals, one print poetry anthology and two e-zines. I am honoured to appear in this poetry blog among other Bahá’í poets.
I have worked in the field of graphic design for about thirteen to sixteen years. I’ve also worked as an editor, publisher and promotional officer for three years in the areas of health and language advocacy. I’m currently employed with a publisher and printer.
Areas of post-secondary studies are visual communication design, fine art, creative writing, entrepreneurial development and accounting for business.
I have a son who is studying art and design at college and he enjoys script-writing and theatre arts.
My other interests are fitness and health, long-distance walking and swimming and painting.
