November 18, 2015
by Alanna Truong
In mindsâ€™ eye,
a flash of terror,
I speak, â€œWhoâ€™s there?â€ My bones
tremble in the face
of fear, in darkness before morn,
I hear, â€œI am he who brings the fears of tomorrow.â€
Death may come tomorrow,
For one held dear, if not for I.
For the life lost, we mourn,
Crying out in terror
for our own. Tears on our face,
and trembling in our bones.
Then Iâ€™ll set my bones.
Before the light of tomorrow,
I prepare for the face
off, between death and I.
I brace against the terror,
of what may come in the morn.
Iâ€™ll truly mourn
the return to dust of our bones,
but not let deaths terror,
rule my vision of tomorrow.
I look as far as eye
can see, and see the truths I must face.
From tomorrows fears I turn my face,
and see the ideas to mourn,
that impress upon the minds of you and I:
The thought that we are only bones,
that ought think of today and not tomorrow.
These speak also of terror.
I will triumph over deathâ€™s terror,
though it look me in the face.
Gone are my fears of tomorrow.
Death may take my body in the morn,
but I am more than flesh and bone.
There are truths not seen by human eye.
No further hold on me does that terror
have. For lives lost I am free to mourn.
And when I finally see deaths terrible face,
and my spirit leaves my bones,
Gladly Iâ€™ll look towards the morrow,
and upon the world with newfound eyes.