Death

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

I’ll tell you
what it’s like.

It’s like a train
coming
and rolling
over you.

You can’t get
out of the way
or
stop the train
because
it’s too late.

All you can do
is take it–
let it run over you,
let the train
finish its job.

17 Comments

Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

17 responses to “Death

  1. The most significant element in any event is one’s attitude to it.

  2. eremophila

    Reblogged this on Eremophila's Musings and commented:
    Sometimes you see the lights of the train in the distance……

  3. Caddo Veil

    So heartbreaking, reality.

  4. Ah …. yes. You put it well, Ethel. Horribly well.

  5. I felt this in my heart and soul – so true, so heartbreaking….

  6. Sometimes, sickness can be like this, too. It doesn’t necessarily end in death, but it feels, nevertheless, like a train that just has to come and do its horrible black job.

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