Death's Remains 2000

Staring down at the remains
Mrs. Thomas' lifeless veins.
The blood not flowing
It's richness drained.
Blank eyes staring
At nothingness.
Makes one hold
Abated breath.
Pale the once proud cheeks
And dry the tongue of life.
Thoughts once flowing
Gone with her last breath.
Officials collecting evidence
Hold their thoughts
Of life's fragile balance,
Knowing that they, too,
Walk the tight rope of life.
It all seems cold
To the casual observer,
The scribbling of notes,
The tags and bags,
The telltale signs
Of investigation.
What is not seen
Is the reason
For the search:
The cause or causes
Of Death's embrace.
Yet, deep inside
Each seekers heart
Are thoughts
Of what fate
Will greet them
At their end.
Respect to those
Now passed this life.
Not useless
Is this endgame.
Life's end
Is not the measure
Of one's life import to all.
What living memories remain
Of the moments shared
With those now gone
Seem to show the lessons
And the measure
Of one's experiences
Shared with others:
For better or for worse.
For Mrs. Thomas,
The game is done.
Officials work
Is now begun.
Do they collect
The evidence
Of only physical remains?
The empty shell
And bloody stains?
For the story of life's end
Is in the thoughts
And minds of those
Who shared her living events.
The search just begins.

Copyrighted © 2000-2004
Roger C. Bull

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