First Cup—Poetry Friday

The Valley of the Shadow

The valley of the shadow...the valley of shadows...
valley of shadow...valleys of shadows...
and always, of course there is the
valley of the shadow of death.
But that valley is only inevitable
when it happens, which it does;
we are—praise God—only mortal.

More important because more
immediate are the valleys of the shadows that
come before the valley:
the little deaths of persons in their own (very)
special form are tragedy beyond words—

living deaths.

Seen in the grinning skulls of
joyless eyes because of hollow
sightlessness (mimicking perception),
lipless mouths incapable of any but hollow
moans (mocking loving speech).

They walk Marley-like,
rattling their self-forged chains
semblance of being.

Hardly aware that the little deaths
have merged lastly, finally,
consummately with the valley.

"Son of man, can these bones live?"
"O Lord GOD, Thou knowest."

—amk (and Ezekiel)