Senior Column:

Quietus
The finishing stroke
On a day unforgettable
Yet so similar to all the rest.
Little ticks drone like a heartbeat, parallel
Because when one dies
The other sleeps,
Imminent sleep, lurking
In street alleys, faulty hearts and numbers.
Finding imperfections in doctors,
Lawyers and pastors,
Worst of all, somehow, mothers and fathers
Especially when realizing
They’ve been there all along,
All laced with
Regret.
But the day, the elusive, bittersweet day
Buries treasures, the sky
In which tragedies become laughable
When discovering faces and dragons in clouds.
To live in the land of milk and cheese
Of lazy journeys and fake dopamine
Where quitting is really beginning,
Where denial causes blindness,
Eyes not seeing that the future is only
An extension of now.
But for now, quietus
The finishing stroke
On a day unforgettable
Yet so similar to all the rest.
Where fear dies,
And peace is temporary