Pa's Death

Death. I wrote this right after my great grandpa's death. I was devastated. I haven't touched it again since then.

Free falling, am flat on my back -
it hurts for breathing to be sucked away...
Writhing, suffocating during this airless void of attack;
Crouch, Rachel - poisoned arrows - stay down, stay...

Flee, depart, don't you dare touch me -
Hands burrow deeply into my loose, open hair...
Wait, those weaving fingers are mine, I see
straining the roots of fragile, blonde tendrils.

Dying, slowly fading, something has been sliced...
Can - not - live - with - out ...*ragged gasp*... him.
Slab is shutting - in a slow, sure, glide -
silently across tomb entrance, him trapped within.

My boulder of stone - solid, sturdy strength
is rotating, twirling, tumbling past a perilous precipice.
I no longer know if I can believe
that, for hope, there's the tiniest trace.

This pebble unhinged, loosed with his decline -
it may or may not pivot past edge...
Fingers outstretched to break the flailing slide -
my wall has crumbled, rubble there instead.