Between March 20 and April 14th, 11 people died in Pikangikum. Of the eleven, nine died on the same night.*
Death is relentless in his pursuit for more,
overly eager to satisfy his unquenchable thirst.
Without invitation, he takes his time to embrace those in the throes of deep sorrow,
those still reeling from what he has done.
As if you can fool me,
we all know your behaviour is sadistic, utterly devoid of love.
Your embrace lingers longer than what is appropriate, you refuse to let us go,
even as we try to push you away. You will have your fill, you will busk in our pain.
We are helplessly bound to your timing.
And even after you have left, your arrogant presence can still be felt,
that mind numbing pain, that haunting lament, an undeniable reminder that you were here.
So much like the unwanted scent of cheap perfume that will not go away no matter how many times I wash myself.
Oh how I hate you death …
* I will not discuss on my blog the circumstances surrounding the deaths so please don’t ask. This is me trying to put to words some of the emotions I have encountered and experienced this past month.