Dead and Aware of It

 

 

I have tried to imagine

What it feels like to be dead

And the closest I have come to it

Is being asleep in bed.

 

I have experienced at times

Though not in the recent past,

The consciousness of being dead

Which left me quite aghast.

 

I had not retired as yet

And was really pushing work

Such that at times when I was resting,

I would suddenly come alert.

 

It is not easy to relate

The strange phenomenon then

But my medical doctor explained

It was definitely a problem.

 

Having awaken from sleep

I would lie transfixed,

I could not even move a finger:

Even to scratch an itch.

 

It would seem a long time

But it was just mere seconds,

And though I needed urgent help,

I couldn’t even beckon.

 

Alert and very aware

But couldn’t utter a sound,

It was like being buried alive

Under a molded mound.

 

My eyes, although open

Could not even be blinked,

I was dead and very aware of it

Whatever you may think.

 

It is a horrible feeling

To actually feel you are dead

Only to know you are still alive

And very much so instead.

 

I had really needed rest:

A total shut down, in fact,

So that while I slept every night

It was deep sleep I lacked.

 

Those seconds of paralysis

Were a warning to me,

My system in responding to the lack

Prompted me to see.

 

 

 

 

Emergency shut down!

It was not all systems go,

Something was about to go wrong

And I needed to know.

 

I was repeatedly warned

And had I repeatedly ignored

This could have ended with me

Not being around anymore.

 

 

A word to workaholics:

Heed the body’s warning!

Don’t be dead and be aware of it

And yet go on ignoring.

 

Else, you may drop dead

And definitely not be aware,

Of being interred in yonder cemetery

Amidst many a tear.

 

Stewart Russell © March 26, 2025

 

Anesthetized or Dead

I must have been dumb

Now feeling numb

Lying prostrate

Unconscious yet awake

Local anesthetic

Or better rendered: loco

I was skeptical at first

But now I know

The first was no problem

The second I pondered

The third was puzzling

The fourth I wondered

It was staggering

When the fifth occurred

Then the sixth

And the lines were blurred

Seven, eight and nine

In very quick time

Followed by a pause

Then ten and eleven chimed

It is now at nineteen

There’s little life left

I must confess

I am close to my death

You’ll find me in the Bible

Thirty-one times

I act more or less

As a warning chime

 

My death is prophesied

In 1st Timothy 4 and verse 2

You can go to that chapter

And take in the view

You will find my name

In verse number two

I accompany everybody

Including you

Check yourself now

See if I am dead

That is a real possibility

But I may be anesthetized instead

Whichever the twain

I am not feeling a thing

I don’t care if you are sad

Or even if you sing

I am calloused by now

I have been so seared

No feelings right now

I have no fear

Oops, sixteen and seventeen

Came pretty soon

They’ll soon forget it

After the initial swoon

You see I do not function

As I did before

In the heat of the time

My sensors are poor

I can do most anything

Without batting a lid

I am far more brazen now

When before I hid

Nineteen is upon us

Less than a quarter gone

Nineteen that didn’t live

To see the next dawn

I could be dead

Or just anesthetized

Do some introspection

And then decide

 

Seared with a hot iron

As described in the Word

I am sure you know me

I am sure you have heard

If by now you don’t know

Conscience is my name

Check to see if I am asleep

In that case I’m just lame

But if you can’t check

It’s something else instead

I regret I must announce

Your conscience is dead

Anesthetized or dead

Now you can tell

If you are dysfunctional

Or if you are well

If I am anesthetized

There is hope for you

But if I am dead

Then you are too.

Stewart Russell © March 2019