An Old Friend of Mine
Death and I are old friends
We speak everyday
But it wasn’t always like that
-
Death came to me first in middle school
Where I avoided his company
And deferred to fatuous wisdom
That painted him as a fiend
-
But like any good companion
Death was annoyingly persistent
As is often the case with kind and decent spirits
Judged unfairly
-
He told me we were destined to meet eventually
So we may as well get to know one another in advance
And fortunately
Given enough time
I gave in
-
Death sported a fearful visage
But I came to understand that Death had little choice in the matter
As society granted him few other outfits to wear
So I took a chance
Gifted him my own
And began to see Death as he truly is
-
Death is thoughtful
And expresses a distaste for small talk
And pleasantries
Choosing instead to wring life of its mysteries
Or to at least try
-
Death is courteous and respectful of my calendar
Only requesting an audience in my moments of solitude
Occasionally making an exception
If I play the classical music we both seem to enjoy
-
Death is honest
And speaks of our shared destiny
With a frightful and admirable candor
That has cultivated my preference
For undiluted truth
-
But Death
In his ignorance
Is also humble
Especially concerning the circumstances surrounding our intimate fate
Even though I pester him for that answer
Constantly
Despite knowing his guess is as good as mine
-
Sometimes I pity my friend
The world has a unique hatred for him
Labels him the enemy
The devil
The aggressor
And conjures up powerful deities to fight an imaginary battle
Where a conversation with Death will do
-
I wish the world knew my Death
And maybe one day it will
Perhaps this is a start
-
After all
Death and I have a lifetime ahead
Before we drift into the void together
Fast friends
