Waiting as I am at the threshold
Of something I dearly yearn yet desert most willingly
Eyelashes wet beat against
Eyes unwilling to be closed
I am my unworthy opponent today
The sword is yet reluctant at my eager throat
Something pounds against my ribs
I hope it bursts open soon
I wail and mourn...
Mourning I pick myself up and stand
Wishing I am knocked down sooner than still
I curse and swear at the strength of my legs
I hit them with all strength I have within me
I draw the sword closer to me
I see it pass within me...and within...and out again
Yet my wretched eyes are open
I attempt to flee into some woody silence
This clamour is deafening
I want to cry onto some stranger's shoulder
Clutch the skin of keenest Death
I am elated I see my wish is granted
Thrice or more...thrice or more...I hope again finally
I turn cold, and dead, and raise
Oh! foil of Time! Raise?
Resurrection is my worst hope
I wish to leave behind all wretched Life.
I want to leave to the welcome smell of wooden coffins
Or rotting, decaying flesh against decaying leaves and twigs
But rotting, decaying still!
Oh! But this orphan heart continues to beat!
I am the thrice dead cat,
The ghetto Jew,
Lady Lazarus in all wrapped glory
Death is unrelenting, unwilling to take me in!