‘Death will bring peace’


(Death will bring peace
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
An old true story.)

 

Death will bring peace.

 
A pretty and kind Angel sleeps alone.
She turned from love and accepted solitude.
In the darkness of lonely nights,
she wished for more hello and less goodbyes.

Old men sitting in the back of the corner bar.
Sober face man sat with friends drinking shots of whiskey.
Old timer Joe toast to a woman left alone so long ago.

 

“To you Jen. First kindness and prettiest lady I ever seen.”

Pretty Jen, who once  loved him, as her will to be alive.
She tells her lovers now,
all I have to give is flesh and bones now.
Her eyes empty and sad,
her hunger now is to feel a man inside her,
her last emotion.

Liars pay the Devil his due. Doesn’t matter who was right or wrong.
The lair of the storytellers and fool’s, is always filled with more sinners.

Old Joe told me. “Whiskey won’t take your sadness away.
Those damn memories come back and leave you empty
and wishing for some kind of peace.”

He took my hand and
he whispered. ” I broke an Angel heart and I don’t know who stayed and who left?

I left her for dead,
then my heart died too. Karma is a fair judge.
Fools who wasted love will die alone and be in hell forever.”

He smiled and slapped my back.
He told me. “It is Valentine day.
Go home to your wife.
Buy her flowers and tell her how much you need and love her.
Hell is too damn full already.”

He took my whiskey and he drank it.
He turned away, looking at his sad face in the tavern mirror.

A woman sat on her porch,
she dreamed she is young and beautiful again.
She wished on the first star.
Please tell Joe I forgive him and I hope he okay.

Old Joe died from too much whiskey in the Winter.
A few of us show up at his funeral and we said goodbye.
We knew he died of loneliness and a broken heart.

 

A solace woman sat with tears and
I sat with her.
I told her what Joe told us. He loved her till his last thoughts. She was his only sweetness.

He would be waiting in Purgatory for the one’s who wasted words and the gift of love.
She kissed my cheek and she walked into the street.

 

I left the funeral and I went  to my wife.
I told her, she is my will to be alive.
My only sweet dream.

Coyote
14 Feb 1998

Category : poetry