“My Dear,” Death began,

with a rush of wind and dead leaves.

“I know you think me cruel.

A wicked thief,

stealing even the first, choking cry from the lungs of your littlest.

Cutting beauty’s fragile thread

and leaving it to rot.

Allowing noxious evil to creep across the earth undetected,

unchecked by my hand.

I know you call me unjust.

It’s true, I would not follow Man‘s justice had I the choice;

to call me forth with human lips and hands is a desecration.

Your precious babes are yet to find peace between their fear of me,

and their disrespect.

Do not pretend you have not seen my anguish. I am the claw that drops,

I am the bite.

Your squealing offspring think not to ask my permission,

they think not what right their flat palms have to commit with my hand.

I am the bite,

and the mouth,

and the body.

I am every part of myself and my task,

and your putrid, wonderful children

think to summon me.

They dare to involve my magic upon themselves and others.

Don’t you see,

my Dear?

You call me murderer,

for taking the lives you have moulded from your breast,

your sacred womb.

I never wanted to hurt you,

to show you this awful truth,

though your hatred pains me,

though it rips at my heart.

I would take all the vemon of your young,

I would take every tiny curse with a smile,

to save you knowing.

But they begin to call you forth too often, my love-

your breast lies thin,

your womb is raw

from their ransacking and demands.

It is those very lives

you are emptying yourself for,

that force my fist upon their flesh.

Your babies are just dying to leave you.

Forgive me, my Dear.

Let me help you,

let me take what you

cannot afford to keep,

and let me watch you heal.”

The universe paused,

holding it’s breathe.

“It’s true,” Life began.

“I know your cruelty well.

I have seen you commit

unspeakable violence

on what you knew I loved.

And I have loved you anyway.

I have seen your bite,

your tearing mouth,

savage the beauty

I spent my whole self on.

Foolishly,

I thought you an ignorant beast.

I thought your evil, unknowing.

Like a wild, unthinking terror,

you were maiming and destroying

what you did not understand.

But you knew.

You saw my pain,

and the terrible emptiness

the loss of my children has caused.

You knew it all,

and took them anyway.

How can you dare to be so arrogant?

How can you dare think you know

my limit better than I?

Yes I am tired,

but not from creation,

never from the generosity of my magic.

I am exhausted by loss.

I could forgive an animal,

an amoral, frightened thing.

I could have forgiven you forever,

though your violence pains me,

though it rips at my heart.

But you have known the ache

your destruction causes,

and you have had no mercy.“

Death turned,

weeping,

bowed his head.

In the wake of his moaning,

earthquakes rose,

and mountains opened,

and the skies opened,

and the seas chewed

the edges of the world.

Life,

stood still.

She paused a minute,

a last, longing look towards him,

then moved on.

#Aks

It is not like the stories.

It is not fire and brimstone

and burning flesh.

It is not cold, dank depths.

Endless darkness.

Endless terror.

It is not what you thought.

It is a warm room,

your favourite room.

You sit between all the ones you love,

touch their flesh

and they will touch back.

You can talk and laugh,

it is always light,

it is always warm

and you are never, ever tired.

It is not what you thought.

Time doesn’t move slowly,

or quickly,

or at all it seems.

You do not change.

Your lover never leaves.

Your mother always smiles.

But somewhere,

it could be years

or a few minutes

into that warmth,

somewhere you start to wonder.

It could be fast,

like blinking while the light changes.

It could be a like a stone hitting your back.

Or it could be like poison.

Slowly, so slowly you do not remember

when you first notice,

everyone begins to repeat themselves.

Not like playback, not like puppets,

but like a child who has not read past the first chapter

of a book you wrote.

And they are all agreeing with you,

all the time.

You may try to test this-

shout obscenities and curses-

but they will only smile.

It is not what you thought.

There is warmth here,

and you are never tired,

but those around you have no depth

and you cannot leave

or sleep

or hide.

A smile is a smile is a smile,

is now just lips pulled over teeth.

You may try slap it from their faces,

the faces you love,

but they will only laugh.

Finally, you are in a world

where everything is comfort and safety,

and a friend who always laughs,

and a lover who will never leave you,

and a mother who is always smiling

but are they happy?

Can it be love if they have no other option?

No option

no standard

no meaning.

It is not what you thought.

It is not hot iron,

burning flesh.

It is the ache of never knowing,

of endless doubt in those around you,

the ones you love most.

It is your fear,

and your love for them,

and the emptiness of their servitude.

It is not what you thought.

The room will always be warm,

they will always smile,

and you will spend forever wondering;

can it be real

can it be good

if it never ends?

#wetpetals

While it may not have been the longest long life, or the best life, or the life with the least humiliations and general foolishness, it was mine. The scars and sorrows were many, and there are moments of absolute pain I will likely never have the courage to revisit, but I hope that you have also seen my absolute joy. For every second that I rubbed my heart against barbed wire, I bathed her in milk and honey. It’s true that some tragedies are unavoidable, natural disasters. It is also true that the ones we love are capable of unimaginable cruelties, and terrible violence. Do not let this poison you. Do not let the bite of a bad dog make wolves of us all. I urge you to remember that hell is not other people; it is a cut that never closes. Avoiding damnation is as simple as finding just one being who will hold your hair, while you lick your wounds. My mother, so fierce, so loving, gave me advice that seems destined to be scripture, and so I leave it with you: Forgive. Be generous. Remember everything.

#Finder