Living in a worldwide pandemic and seeing very apocalyptic imagery day to day made me think about a poem that takes place at the end of the world.
“Observations Near the End of The World”
by Sara Elizabeth Tsimerman
As I lay, eyes nothing spotting,
I was sure the grass was plotting
Against me, but stopped at seeing I was capable of fight
When I jerked awake from dreaming
Of a dream with angels screaming
As they rushed down from the heavens in a cloud of blinding white.
There were cracks in the foundation
At reality’s creation
That, unchecked, have shattered into jagged shards of space and time.
I can see the stress, the bending,
And the multitudes pretending
That the cataclysmic faults beneath their feet are not a sign.
On the eve of my surrender
In the guise of the pretender
Came to me the knowledge that despite forever standing tall
Time will pass, and beauty slacken.
Worlds will fall and skies will blacken
And though we may beg forgiveness, oh but how the rain will fall.
About the Author
Sara Elizabeth Tsimerman writes to gain clarity in life, thinking of herself as the main character in a story. With support from her STEM-focused family, the amateur sculptor says she can’t imagine life without medicine. “I want to solve puzzles, use my hands, help people and see the tangible and immediate results of my work.”
