I saw death

I saw death,
but she did not come
to visit me.

She almost brushed
against me
and passed me by.

My comrade cried out
and for a moment
he was still with me.

She took him
in her arms and he was gone
while the war raged on.

When in the dark of night
I hear a mother crying,
a chill passes through me.

At times she walks the streets
and Aids and drugs,
bring strings of people to her.

When I drive to places,
I see people meeting her
on the highways.

At a friends bed in the hospital
I saw her again
and still she did not glance at me.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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