Poem - Reaper's Drum

This year's passing of celebrities is striking especially hard the sense of mortality among the aging population. Our heroes and pop symbols are falling away to the hand of time. The poem “Reaper's Drum” is about the inevitability of this, and how we still have a sense of surprise when it happens.


Reaper's Drum

Echoes of the Reaper's march,
made more loud in this year.
Has it always been this way
or are ears now primed to hear?
The rough percussion never stops
as heartbeats cease to be.
Others rush to fill the gaps
with silence never near at hand.

In nature's bustling cavalcade
everyone is the band.
Most of use sit in the wings
while the rest are center stage.
These avatars of society
made immortal by celebrity
cast in film and song alike
still are taken from our sight.

Damn you Reaper don't you know
that your drum does not console
when the famous that we see
are found human in your revelry.
We saw them as the lords above
the bulk of mere mortal folk.
This matters not when you play
your ancient rhythm of decay.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160119.