My Lover, the Gravedigger

Tell the gardener we only need two shovels. One for you and one for me.

Today, you will dig my grave. I will help you.

The gardener brings the shovels. They are long with wide ends, as if they knew we need the sturdiest tools for the job ahead.

You don't know it yet- because how can you foresee death? But you smile at the way the sky seems to have cleared and you live with the bright possibility that today could be beautiful.

I am sad I will end this hope for you. I can't yet apologize for my part in your sadness you don't know is coming.

So today when we dig this hole you think is for a rosebush, I will be wearing my funeral dress, blood red, no white for purity. For I am no pure woman. I know Death as if it were my lover and I have seen my end. I am just sorry I have designated you my executioner.

Don't worry darling, it will be me in the end who pulls the trigger.

Death is coming, as I have seen since childhood. Visions in my periphery, visions in my dreams- the voices tell me it is time to go. Don't ask me why this is. Some things are not to be understood, only taken as truth. This is my truth.

The sky is now gray, you frown at the change of weather. I take a deep breath, It is time.

And I say to you, "Listen now lover, put down your shovel for a moment. Don’t worry, you will have to pick up the shovel again to bury me from the world once more.

But for now, it is time to say goodbye."