Conversations With Death

Death first brushed by

While I was still in the womb

I stared wide-eyed

As he silently stole my brother

“Why?” I asked, “Why him?”

With no acknowledgement

Death gently lifted my brother

And was gone…

Years passed before

I again felt Death’s bearing.

A funeral for an infant.

“How could this poor soul die so young?”

Was the murmur throughout the church.

I did not wonder,

I knew with what ease

Death ensnared children

Before their first gasps for air.

Death came next for my grandfather.

He sat in the room beside me

While doctor’s spouted false hope.

He stood behind my grandfather

When we were told the agonizing truth.

Once again I stared wide-eyed

As death lifted my grandfather

“Why?!” I screamed, “Why him?!”

Same question, yet still no answer

Just gut wrenching silence.

I now look down at the razor.

Young and broken by life.

I gaze back into the mirror

Death glares back,

He shakes his head no.

“Why not?!” I yell at him

After silence for so long,

Death speaks

“I tell you no because it is not your time,

you don’t choose when you die, I do.

You say you’re broken by the world

But you’ve only just begun this life.

I did not spare you all those years ago

For you to simply squander time.

You asked why I took your brother

And wondered why not you.

Because you’re strong, you’re stubborn,

Passion flows through your veins.

Life is not for the faint of heart,

And you my dear, are anything but that.”

Speechless, I step back from the mirror.

I hear the blade clink onto the tile.

As my reflection fades back into sight

I feel something I haven’t ever felt,


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