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A Q&A With Death

Updated on October 14, 2015

I sit at the table and
look at the dark figure
into where eyes should be.
“Tell me, what is your name?” I ask.
“Death has no name,” it replies.
I keep my composure,
“Why do you take
what hasn’t been given?”
“For it is a gift!” it exclaims.
If death could smile
a Cheshire grin
would be bearing its teeth.
“A gift from whom?” I question.
“Life.
The voices that speak
and the hearts that beat
are one day to be mine
as they have been life’s.”
Death was reasoning.
An eye for an eye.
“What does death have
that life does not?” I wonder.
“Eternity,” it replies.
I take a deep breath
knowing I have arrived
at the last question.
“Am I ready?” I ask.
The question lingers in the air.
The figure of death
does not answer
and I stand up
from the table
as death
embraces me
like a gift.

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