The Portals of Sheol

Unmarked and scattered, entrances abound:
A toddler finds one in a hiding place--
That useless freezer chest we kept around.
A teen locates another in a race
From boat to beckoning shore, where parents wait
Aghast. A father jogging through the park
Discovers one beside a storm-drain grate:
His fall draws gawkers in the gathering dark.
Familiar scenes, the daily paths we take,
All camouflage the graveyard gates’ designs.
A door snaps shut, defying us to break
The lock that holds dear friends in burial shrines.
But locks can fail with shocks that unhinge death:
Each Easter dawning, tombstones hold their breath.

A Song to Death

Come, Death, in secrecy so deep
That your approach I do not see
Until, with joy, I’m joined to thee,
My life, a weight I would not keep!

Come, Death, as sunshine rays that slice
Through tender skin, inflicting harm
Before I even know I’m warm:
A lethal burn that creeps like ice.
So let your subtle coming be!
If not, then I will make thee swear
To bring the sweet delight—and rare—
Of second life, again as me!

--From the Catalan of Joan Escrivá, late medieval poet (1450 -
c. 1500) noted for explorations of religious subjects;
translated, Bryce Christensen