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Growing your own death is a poem that seemingly flood lights on our health and how we ignore our body. A friend of mine visited a friend of ours who was hospitalized, and after the doctors examined him, they had to refuse to let him go. He was having a critical condition which he has ignored over time. This poem brings to fore that negligence, and echoes the need to avoid harming ourselves unintentionally.

this poem is many things but not suicide.
your body is a prayer point,
both for you and your enemies.

you should blame no one if your body
suddenly carries a black hole.

it is the nature of the mind to nurture and
take care to avoid collapse.

under the sheets

so why will you plant and water your own demise?
before you dispute this tale, ask yourself
when last you paid attention to your dying body.

the warring songs it sang before it brought you pain.
when I say your body is your prayer point it is
because you have made it so
from your incessant appetite for something sweet and
your nonchalance to your well being.

old roger did die young and went to his grave.
he even had an apple tree planted over his head.
but of all people to benefit wasn’t it an old woman
who picked up the apples?

so when I say your body is a prayer point,
I can mean many things. but be sure your body
can bear you witness that you weren’t your own murderer.

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