Epiphany, written by Doug Stanfield (Hemmingplay) at Spillwords.com

Saying Goodbye

Part V


written by: Doug Stanfield (Hemmingplay)



I knew a guy,

cancer survivor,

but worn down by it

to the look of lacy bone.


A light shone through

his parchment skin

like a flame through

a mica shade,

like a mystical

organic fire.


The brush with death

leaves a calling card.

“I’ll be back” it says.
“You won’t know when.”

He knew what
it meant to nearly end.

It was an epiphany, of sorts.
But there was this

glow, as though

he had a mandate to

slap the shit

out of whatever

time was left.

As serious as
a heart

he wasn’t

afraid of

being forgotten,
of not being

It doesn’t have to be cancer.

Could be a stroke,

the kind of thing,

you try to explain,

to the lucky civilians with
combat metaphor:


“I could hear the whine of the bullet,

the ugly sound of it, like

something ruthless
hunting, hungry for a kill.”

Civilians. They’ll learn, soon enough.

You only know this

if you’ve heard the whine.

But it misses, now and then.

You realize
you’ve got bonus time,

but fear being forgotten;

you’ve wasted so much time.


But that fire licks at your feet…

You mean to slap the shit
out of untruths

in the time granted.

Make some noise.

Burn some rubber.

Make someone cry,
Make someone happy.

Be honest.

Be true.

Repent wasting
seconds of precious time.

You know not the hour or the day.

It’s an epiphany, of sorts,

hearing death whiz by.

It lights a manic fire.

But oh, for a time
you live sweeter,


in a holy light.

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This publication is part 5 of 20 in the series Saying Goodbye