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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Peter's Probationary Poems - 9. Thoughts at a deathbed

Once they cut the umbilical cord,

you are alone.

There will be company of some sort,

but you're alone.

When fate sends a soul-mate on your path,

you're less alone.

Though still in unity's aftermath,

you’re even more alone.

Surrounded by the closest of friends,

you can be alone.

Sometime when you count life’s dividends,

you add up alone.

Whether you’re popular or outcast,

you will be alone.

And comes the day that will be the last,

you die alone.

Copyright © 2016 J.HunterDunn; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Wow, Peter. A somber reflection I've felt myself at times. I can't dwell too long here, but there are times in our lives when people we love leave us, whether through death, or circumstance, and that feeling of being deserted can take over. I think slowly, as we age, we see things in a different light... your poem contains an intrinsic truth... just remember that being alone doesn't mean we aren't loved or that we won't be missed. Still, our journeys are our own... superb and thought-provoking piece here, my friend... kudos and cheers... Gary....

Devastating. After several readings, I now feel I'm witnessing a certain division of the poet's self. Simultaneously, he's both the person in the bed at the last moment, and the one sitting in the chair 'being there.' I suppose we all must be the one to comfort us at the end; a life well lived is the only solace fit for the final moment. And that goes for any of us.

 

Thank you for posting this.

On 09/04/2016 06:53 PM, Mikiesboy said:

All true Peter, but if we're lucky we have good company with whom we can share that aloneness until that final day.

 

A thought-provoking poem for a Sunday morning. Thank you!

Thank you, tim. You are absolutely right that we can share, which is a blessing. Company and friends relieve many struggles, may influence us in a good or a bad way, may hold our hand when needed, but the way I experience(d) life ultimately you're alone when it really counts.

On 09/04/2016 07:43 PM, aditus said:

That's a fatalistic way to see life and its end. It makes me sad. I always hope there will be someone to be with me when this day comes and that I can be there for the people I love. Your poem fits the season, though. :hug:

Thanks for your review, Adi. Maybe the poem seems fatalistic, but I had no negative feelings at all when I wrote it. It's just a statement about how I see life. I wrote it some time ago and posted it the day before I had to have eye-surgery, which I very much dreaded. It is, though, an example of something you have to face alone. Your partner can be there for you before and after, the nurses and surgeon are all sympathetic and supportive, but you have to undergo it all by yourself. It is that notion I tried to capture.

On 09/05/2016 01:08 AM, Headstall said:

Wow, Peter. A somber reflection I've felt myself at times. I can't dwell too long here, but there are times in our lives when people we love leave us, whether through death, or circumstance, and that feeling of being deserted can take over. I think slowly, as we age, we see things in a different light... your poem contains an intrinsic truth... just remember that being alone doesn't mean we aren't loved or that we won't be missed. Still, our journeys are our own... superb and thought-provoking piece here, my friend... kudos and cheers... Gary....

I'm so happy by your review, Gary, thank you. "Our journeys are our own" is exactly what I tried to say. It certainly is not all negative. Many good things in life are "alone experiences". I'm an early riser and when I walk in the garden early on a summer day, the sun just about to illuminate the tree tops, birds each starting their morning concert, cocks crowing nearby and in the distance, a faraway churchbell ringing the hour, a feeling of total happiness can overwhelm me. No-one to share with, still the ultimate alone-experience as well.

On 09/05/2016 01:14 AM, AC Benus said:

Devastating. After several readings, I now feel I'm witnessing a certain division of the poet's self. Simultaneously, he's both the person in the bed at the last moment, and the one sitting in the chair 'being there.' I suppose we all must be the one to comfort us at the end; a life well lived is the only solace fit for the final moment. And that goes for any of us.

 

Thank you for posting this.

You've seen the two aspects perfectly. I sat at the side of the bed of both my father and my mother when it was their time and although very different, the similarity was that in both cases it was one person at the most lonely moment in life ... the last one as a human being. I am personally not afraid of death, but am aware that -although maybe my hand will lovingly be held- the final moment has to be experienced alone.

Thank you for your review, Al. You often make me feel less alone.

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