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Poems by Michael H. Pedersen

"The Land of the Dead"

Picture yourself on the top of a small hill.

It’s covered with dead, dark, lifeless grass but still.

It appears to be glowing somehow.

In this everlasting night you can suddenly see how.

Death is not to be feared – it is no punishment.

But more a liberating gift to you, my dearest friend.

You see, in this land of the things that are dead.

You will never sleep but you will, though, instead.

Have all the things you couldn’t have when you were alive.

Like trust and love – and times will arrive.

When you will come to think of your now past living life.

But don’t you worry, it won’t last long and you will never again be rife.

This I can promise you my afterlife friend.

Now come with me, into the dark we descend.

You will soon adapt to the things that we do.

In the beginning, though, they might just scare you.

You will have all these things but not for free.

A small part of you we will take for fee.

It’s not your soul as you might have thought, but your blood instead.

For blood is what’s used for payment in the Land of the Dead.

By Michael H. Pedersen
22/05-1998

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