Dancer's Cope

Body Worn,

Skin all leathery and fatigued,

A festering entity 

Soon your health to deceive.

Body Worn,

Hair interlaced 

And webbed round fingertips,

Gone too is the rosey palette

Of now quivering lips.

Body Worn,

Now is the time

To say all what should be said.

For soon the pervasive malignant body

Shall emanate and quickly spread.

Body Worn,

To come to terms with

Imminent, inescapable death

To lighten your load

And relish each and every 

Last earthly breath.

Body Free,

To come full circle

And onto an ethereal space,

You blessed us with your presence 

Now onward to some otherworldly place.

Dedicated to my Aunty Gia.

Title: Galore

Oil on wood

Painting by: Alana Armstrong