Death took you away from me,
like a mosquito;
its extended, insidious proboscis removing
the last bit of life from its prey.
It was not a beautiful death.
Now I am unaided
Like a vacant home, unresponsive windows bitter and blind.
Like a wilted blossom,
shoulder flaccid,
arms limp at sides.
The final page of a diary printed in blood,
The tempest had passed, its last breath disregarded by the calm that chased.
It is not by machinery but by faith you are saved.
© Nishka Ramkhelawan
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Grade 11
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There are some very powerful lines in this piece - the proboscis, the final page of a diary printed in blood. I especially am impressed by the strength in the closing line. Wonderful work.
ReplyDeleteYour metaphors and similes are very effective.
ReplyDelete