Death and the Woodcutter, by Garth Ferrante

Death and the Woodcutter, by Jean Francois Millet (France). 1859.

Death and the Woodcutter
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again you are wrong, do you purposely misunderstand me, do you think i am here for the benefit of you or anyone else?: we are here yet were never asked to be born and are never asked if we wish to die except by those who'd be happy to deliver it...this is why it's so easy for me to trick you, to deceive like you were a child, some fool thing destined to be disappointed when called: it's alright, though, come closer and closer when i drive a thousand miles on shot tires fit for a blowout as i'm doing ninety-three...come even closer when i've got my sex in my hands imagining myself exploding inside her telling her she is amazing, telling her she's all i ever wanted, needed, prayed for, and now i can die happy and fulfilled...come right up to my face, feel my breath mix with yours, take one more stride and step inside this mind that's been stewing with so many questions, so much grief, so many demands that you should be tried and hanged for all you've ever taken without mercy, without giving them the time they were due, and now see how i reject you, how i eject you from me with laughter over whatever power they say you have...you don't exist, no one exists like they think they do, there are beginnings i don't remember when i was ripped from the cradle of unbeing, and them saying i will beg for you if i'm made to suffer enough, but i've suffered plenty and have only ever asked to understand why and why and why the way that was chosen, why i chose that way that led to such sharp thorns, the sword in the side, the laughter as i looked up to ask where was the one who was going to save me...but that was me, it's always been me, just as it's each of us who decides the length of our suffering if not ever the method...who knew it would be so easy to call you bastard, ghost, nothing, just as easily as i have without penalty, for yes, there is a darkness, but you are not that darkness, and you are not the sentinel guarding the gateway to that darkness…you are only the unknown we cannot yet understand, maybe will never understand, because we don't get to say when unless we take that resolve for ourselves: this is the hardest thing in existence to take...
Garth Ferrante

This poem was written as part of the surprise ekphrastic I See a Darkness challenge.

​Garth Ferrante is a complete unknown who teaches, writes, and makes games out of challenging his own creativity.  He writes because he loves to, because he finds meaning and purpose in it, because if he didn’t, life would be lifeless.