THIS IS MY FIRST TIME OF SPEAKING OF MY DEATHS
mad hippie poet 1974 (new jersey)
What can I say? You are not supposed to remember your death day when your breath fades away. The colors were at first black and purple, my two favorite colors. I saw my soul lift from my body as they worked, trying to bring me back to life. My grandparents and big brother pushed my soul back, saying it is not your time; please ease your troubled mind.
Who the hell was battling for my soul? I died again; this time, I saw shades of yellow while my grandfather was on the left side of me and my brother was on the right of me, both holding my hand as my grandmother was kissing my head and singing task it a Basket.
This is not just words or a dream, just memories of what I have seen. It was so comforting; it was so damn real there was life on the other side at first. Scared was a feeling that I felt then I woke up in the hospital realizing my body was just a passenger on the ambulance ride
About this poem
MY TWO NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCES
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"THIS IS MY FIRST TIME OF SPEAKING OF MY DEATHS" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 12 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/156990/this-is-my-first-time-of-speaking-of-my-deaths>.
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