Death and Depression

I have always been fascinated by stories and poems that personify death. Think On a Pale Horse; The Sandman Series; Meet Joe Black. It’s somehow comforting to think that death might be able to relate to us in some human way.

 

Bleak February snow covers

The yard, freezes the ground.

Death turns from frosted window,

Switches on the lamp, settles

Into the armchair with a sigh:

“The dove’s low note, dog’s bark,

They seem lonely to me now.

Much is hard to reconcile.”

 

The sun stays a day longer.

Hyacinth poke from melting

April snow. With good humor

Restored, Death walks jauntily

Through warm spring rain,

Humming, musing to himself:

“Mild despair is seasonal,

I think. Sing, bird. Howl, dog.”

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