death
My Poem “The Candle”
It's sometimes hard to know what to say, it's sometimes hard to know what to do, it's sometimes hard to know what someone is personally going through after they lose someone that they spent time with, someone who they cared about, someone who they loved, and someone who they could never foresee living in a world without; but that is the anguish and that is the reality of life and death that we all must sometimes grapple with - which can make us all feel mentally lost, physically sick, and emotionally devastated... it's sometimes hard to put into words what someone meant to you, because usually there are too many memories and too many experiences to look back on and recount in every detail of what happened, when, why, and how a particular person made us feel... it's sometimes hard to know if you have done enough for someone in need - family members, friends, even strangers who you can see are struggling with a deep and excruciating pain; but if you truly want to do something for someone, then be there for them - even if by doing so you are simply on the other end of a phone, grieving with them, giving them your time, as well as the gift of your condolences that are genuine, meaningful, and meant to help - like the simple act of kindness of remembering someone special by lighting a candle.
My Poem “Her Majesty”
I will never forget the 8th of September, 2022 - the day that I and the entire nation of Great Britain mourned the passing of Queen Elizabeth the second... it had been raining on and off all day - and for some reason when I heard that members of the Royal Family were rushing to be by The Queen's side I had a feeling that we soon may be witnessing the end of her reign. When it was announced that The Queen had died, I must admit that I and my family did indeed cry - because we had lived with The Queen all our lives, and she had always been like a grandmother to our entire nation whose image we had seen and carried with us wherever we went and whenever we needed to use some physical pounds and pence. Things will never be the same again... now King Charles III will take his mother's place as the head of state... now when we sing the national anthem we will have to say "God Bless The King" instead of "God Bless The Queen"... this year The Queen celebrated having spent 70 years on the throne - 70 years in which she showed true strength, grace, regality, and a sense of duty to her people and the country that she loved... Queen Elizabeth II and I shared the same birthday - the 21st of April - and though we were not at all close in age I always considered the fact that we were born on the same day and the same month to be something special to me, for some reason. It is the end of an era... it is the end of what is it being referred to as the "second Elizabethan Age"... it is the end of one reign and the beginning of another - but no matter what happens going forwards nothing will be the same... it is with a deep and profound sense of sadness that I must write about the death of a woman who was inspiring and influential to so many people in so many ways for seven decades - and even though I was never lucky enough to get the chance to meet The Queen personally, I will always remember her as being someone who every year I wanted to watch the Christmas message of, someone who personified the importance of obligation, pride, duty, legacy, and family - which is why I will always think fondly of The Queen, Elizabeth II, Her Majesty.
21 April 1926 – 8 September 2022
My Poem “The Crow”
When I walked out of my house this morning I immediately found myself staring into the dark eyes of a crow - it was as if the crow knew something about me and about what was going to happen to me that I did not know... I stared at the crow, as they stared back at me, and then when I started walking towards them they let me get perhaps two feet before they decided to flap their wings and take flight as quietly, as quickly, and as effortlessly as could be... I didn't think anything else of the crow until just now, as a matter of fact, as I wonder how long it will take before I once again feel whole again, and just like the old me; however, I know that it is too late for some things and that there are some things that will forever remain in the past... we are all a product of the choices that we have made and the road that we walk upon that is built upon our hopes, our dreams, as well as our fears and our actions that we can't take back... when I woke up this morning I knew that I had something waiting for me - something that I knew would leave a scar upon me that only I will wear and that only I would know... when I woke up this morning I was given a message meant only for me that when I think about it now was as clear as clear could be - and the messenger of this message was who was waiting for me outside my house this morning: none other than the black bird that is smarter than you could know, and symbolically considered to be the herald of change, transition, transformation and new beginnings that is The Crow.
The Mark Hastings Experience – Season 3, Episode #4: “Life + Death”
My Poem “Grieve for Them”
What can be said… what can be done…
what can be read… what can be known
about how somebody is going to act,
how somebody is going to think,
how powerless somebody is going
to feel after they lose someone
who they have known all their life –
someone who they may not have seen every day,
someone who they may not have talked
to on a regular basis,
but someone who was always there
as a source of stability and faith,
and someone who they always loved.
Words can’t describe what certain
people go through after someone
they cared for unexpectedly dies…
some people feel numb, some people feel lost,
some people feel like they have misplaced
a part of themselves immediately after
they hear the tragic news that they
will never see someone again –
and sometimes the pain that is felt is so extreme
that it overpowers a person’s
natural ability to show their sorrow
with the tears of a cry.
It’s so sad to see people suffering
from profound grief to the degree
that they recede within themselves
both physically and psychologically –
not even wanting to leave
the coccoon of their bed to eat, to drink,
to wash their face, to dress themselves
how they normally would,
nor unable to convey the hurt
that they constantly feel in their chest
as their heart attempts to heal itself
after seemingly breaking into a million pieces.
It’s a long road back to normality
after you lose someone who always made
you feel special passes away –
there isn’t anything that anybody can do for you
other than to give you the time that you need
to come to terms with the hard reality
that death is the part of life
which nobody can do anything about,
but what each and every one of us can do
is to never forget all those people
who may have left us physically
but who will always be with us in spirit,
who may have seen something in us
that we may never have seen
and who may have known us
better than we could ever truly know ourselves
and who every day we will think of,
who will love always, who we will always honour,
who we will always remember,
who we will always be grateful for the gift of,
and who not a day will go by
when we will not grieve for them.
My Poem “Eternity’s Ultimate Goal”
The world of life is filled with colour…
the underworld is black and white…
the world around us is like no other…
the world to come is devoid of time,
perspective, reason, and drive…
the world of the now is where
and when we accomplish what
we are meant to do…
the world behind the invisible curtain
is where we reflect on what was
and what could have been…
the world of the present is
where, when, and how the universe renews…
the world beyond this one that is so
unfathomable from the reality of the tangible
because what people encounter
when they pass over is so ethereal
that what and who we interact with
would be similar to that of a dream…
the world that people see, hear, feel
touch and think about every day
is constantly evolving…
the world far beyond the clouds
is the next phase of the soul…
the world in which the living live in
is a journey with a definitive ending…
I believe that the world of the infinite
that awaits everybody is where people go
to find all the missing pieces from
their life that they lost in order to
fully understand what is the true
and pure answer that explains
the meaning of all life
and eternity’s ultimate goal.
My Poem “Supernatural Obsession”
The thing about the universe,
the thing about the world,
the thing about life,
the thing about death
and what happens after we die
is that we simply do not know
everything that is out there,
nor do we know what is going to happen next…
we don’t know why any of us are here,
nor do we know what real aliens look like,
or why some people are haunted by ghosts?
So much is known about the world –
however, so much about life is still unexplained…
so much has been explored
and so many questions have been answered –
and yet there still remains fundamental questions
about the nature of life and what awaits us all
in our after-life that are constantly being posed
within someone’s brain.
Heaven? Hell? Angels? Demons?
What world awaits us and who should we expect
to find on the other side when it is our time?
Is where we go next dependent upon
if we have lived a life in which
we have been cruel, or if we have been kind?
It is existential questions
that drive our souls as we live our lives…
it is questions of morality that define
the stories that we tell one-another
that are the content of what we dream about at night…
it is our fascination with questions of the incredible,
the impossible, the unbelievable, and the phenomenal
that will continue to always spark to life
humanity’s collective imagination…
there will always be characters
in paranormal stories and adventures,
like Sam and Dean, who will be our guides
and our storytellers of paranormal events
and experiences that will continue to fuel
our long-held supernatural obsessions.
My Poem “Our heroes are leaving us”
Slowly but surely
our heroes are leaving us…
sadly and silently
we have to watch those who we have grown up with
pass over the threshold between life and death,
as they begin a new journey far away from us…
every day we all hear that another person
who meant something to us at some point in our life
has broken free of the shell of their life and their body…
every day we have to say goodbye in our own way
to someone who we thought of as a friend
who touched and changed our life in some way…
it’s always sad… it’s always unbelievable…
it’s always shocking… it’s always strange
when we see again the face of someone who has died
but who still continues to live on in memories,
in photographs, on a screen, or through their voice
which we can still hear in a myriad of ways…
when we lose someone we have known all our lives
it is like watching the stars above slowly disappear
one by one before our eyes –
and though over time the space where bright stars
once burned from a distance will be filled with new stars,
nothing and no one could ever replace the light of something
or someone who used to be our guiding star…
the universe is constantly changing…
sunrises and sunsets are a way of life
for every planet in the cosmos…
no matter how hard anybody tries
there will never be enough words in any language
capable of explaining the meaning of life
and where we go to after we die –
but some questions can only be answered
after we have had life-changing experiences
and after we have witnessed the heroes of our life leave us.
My Poem ‘A Ghost’s Story’
Some people think
that ghosts are all in the mind…
some people think
that we see what we want to see…
some people think
that the stories of hauntings
are more often than not
just a bunch of lies…
some people are just unable
to entertain the possibility
of somebody continuing to live
though they may not technically be “alive”…
ghosts, spirits, people remain on Earth
and they talk to us all every day –
but sometimes not in ways
that are easy to believe.
When a human spirit leaves its corporeal life
and is set free of its physical body,
a natural change and transition occurs…
when a human heart stops beating,
another source of spirit grows stronger
and we are given a choice:
to follow our instincts
and to journey to a place
beyond human understanding and comprehension,
or stay on Earth and be shown,
and get to interact with,
the living of humanity
within an existence of limitless-time.
Everybody has a reason to be who and what they are –
some people when they die become songs,
and some people when they die becomes stars;
some people’s spirit live on
within the pages of a book
long after their audible-voice can no longer be heard,
forever inhabiting a story’s every letter of every word;
every form of life, when it fully becomes its own spirit,
lives on – and the more that we explore other planets
in the galaxy I am sure that we will encounter
alien ghosts, also –
and I personally would not be surprised
if one day someone from Earth
finds themselves haunted by the figure
of a dead Martian while living
upon the surface of Mars.
Everybody has a story that they are at the centre of…
some peoples’ stories do not end
when their physical body gives-out…
everybody had a moment during their life,
and after death, when they have to shake-off
who they used to be and become someone else completely new –
the draw of an enticing bright light
is hard not to race towards like a moth…
some peoples’ idea of life after death
to some might be thought of as “heaven”,
and to others that same idea
might be their exact version of “hell”…
life when you are alive is different
to the life that awaits us all
on the other side of the threshold of our twilight
that we have to cross when our time
as a living and breathing human comes to an end…
it is said that when we die
we write the most beautiful poetry…
it is important to say goodbye
to loved-ones and friends…
every person, every-thing lives on…
everybody and everything changes –
but nothing ever truly ends,
and when each of us pass on
our story changes also,
from one like that of a caterpillar
to one like that of a butterfly –
and that is the essence of a ghost’s story.
markthepoet.me 