When Death Rushes Up

This is not a good way to greet the morning. Some words of tribute from afar …

When death rushes up,
We meet it as we are.
For some it comes swiftly, from the metal of a car.
For others the knife wounds, from the assailant himself.
For others death is stayed by the new bridge leap repertoire.

When death rushes up,
The trained run straight into the fray.
The soldier turned MP, suit sacrificed quickly for the sake of they.
The helicopter pilot, swooping in to extract the fallen.
The hands-on head doctor, applying skill to death allay.

When death rushes up,
The world stands in dismay.
Perplexed as to why, horrified as to death’s pathway.
What’s with our fellow humans,
That inflicting death on others is their own death’s preferred way?

When death rushes up,
Life often is shredded and torn.
For those who bid farewell in the morn,
And left for a “just another day” at work,
Don’t return home as evening’s born.

When death rushes up,
As it will for all of us one day.
Though perhaps not sprayed across the news in such a way,
Yet on this day, we must stand united,
To do life again, to bring life afresh, to live life valiantly, yea.

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