Bruce Whealton: On Being a Poet and Other Existential Ideas

I just got news that I have 9 more publications to add to my credits! Nine, that’s a pick me up for the day/week. Aphelion, the Webzine of Science Fiction and Fantasy is going to publish in February, my poem “The Angel of Death Offers Consolation.” In addition to this, I am having 8 other poems, similar dark poems published, including the following: “Shelter,” “A Warning,” “The Lingering Scent,” “The Name,” “The Great Escape,” “A Modern Day Van Helsing,” “Sensuous and Strong as the Serpent,” and “Becoming.”

That poem appears again below with the introductory information that goes with the poem.

“Courtland Smith died after being shot by an Archdale police officer. Smith had
called 911 threatening suicide, and adding that he had a gun and had
been drinking.” For a full story read here:
http://www.wral.com/news/local/story/5880002/

This poem is inspired by the Angel of Death series of poems by Jean Jones. Read more of the Angel of Death poems by Jean Jones here:
http://wsmagazine.net/VolumeXIVNoIV/books-published-by-word-salad/book/4-the-angel-of-death-by-jean-jones/4-other-poetry-publications.html

The Angel of Death Offers Consolation

The Angel of Death approached
Courtland
as he stood holding a drink
alone, crying, hoping no one would see him.

“Let’s go for a ride.”

“Who are you?”

“Someone who loves you,
who understands you
and what you are going through.”

“I can’t see your face.”

“That’s ok, I can see you.”

So they got into his car
and began a long talk
as Courtland drove through
the dark streets.
Observers would have said he was alone
in the car but Courtland would have
told them differently…
he would have told of a beautiful woman
riding with him.

“They don’t understand you
and won’t take you seriously…
Go ahead…
Call 911 and tell them what you are going to do!”

“I can’t do it.”

“Go ahead, call them, you’ll see.
They don’t understand you like I do…
No one ever will…”

So he did call 911.

The Angel of Death kept speaking to him
as he drove,
as he became more
desperate.

“There’s only one way you can be
with me forever,” the Angel of Death told Courtland.

“I can’t do it,” he answered.

“They’re not going to take you seriously
just because you cry.
Make them understand the depth of your pain…
Tell them you have a gun with you
and you’re ready to end your life now.
Then they’ll listen.”

So, he told them 911 operator
just what the Angel of Death had said.

The next several moments
he spent listening to the 911 operator
in one ear
and the Angel of Death in the other,
until all he could hear
was the soothing hypnotic voice
of the Angel of Death.

When he came to a traffic light
he didn’t hear the police man telling him
to stay in the car.

“Do you really want to be with me,
forever?” the Angel of Death asked him.
“Then take this and go.
Go ahead. You can do it.
They’ll remember you now!”

The next
sounds to be heard
were from the police.
Four gunshots.
“Shots fired.”
“Man down.”

Poem by Bruce Whealton
August 31, 2009

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