The Corrupted Deity of Death

by Neesa Suncheuri

Without God, so weak, I was but a waif.
But then His leadings removed my regrets.
Divine light and wisdom guided me safe.
No more anxiety nor grief nor frets.

He’s blessed me with a loving, peaceful curse.
My brain grows dim, lies down in failure’s bed.
Dear Suicide, I’m now placed in your hearse.
My coffin’s grand, like the darkness of dead.

I’ll return from death one day, with glad news
Of shining afterlife and pains removed.
My form will radiate with colored hues,

And my words will nourish you as grand food.

Perhaps I’m mistaken, but I think not.

Death’s my god.  I’m a devoted zealot.

neesas1

Neesa Suncheuri works as a mental health peer specialist at a housing agency in Queens, New York.  She is the founder of a Facebook discussion group for peer specialists and other recovery enthusiasts, entitled “What is Wellness?  A Mental Health Discussion Group.”  Much of her creative inspiration is rooted in her now-tamed schizophrenia.  She is a singer/songwriter, and performs in various venues in the city.  She writes poetry, maintains a blog and is currently working on a memoir.  Follow her on Twitter at @aquariumspeaks.

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2 thoughts on “The Corrupted Deity of Death”

  1. Neesa, there’s a lot packed into this poem, more than one reading, or even two, might unpack. Is it dark or light? Light within darkness, or vice versa? And gods are so easily corrupted by us mortals when we contemplate that mortality. Thank you.

    Like

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