Death Becomes Me
You’re within me
Talking, stalking
In the guise of a false memory
Arbiter of what is and is not
A cloaked and shadowed form
Whom I had hoped to forget
Feebly I had prayed that I could live in peace
But your ghostly spectre is haunting
Taunting with no surcease
Virulently cawing ‘why?’
and ‘how could this be?’
I can’t answer
And then - again - I see you die
die, inside of me
Like a fire lit too soon
In an inhospitable domain
Fate, it seems, had already declared your doom.
Fate.
As though I were vindicated of agency
As though I were not driven by others’ fear and hate
Fear.
Of what could be
Of the relief if you were to just disappear
Alone.
I, the adjudicator
Fear to leave my home
False dawn
For home offers no such sanctuary from your
Memory I so privately mourn
Virulently cawing ‘why?’
and ‘how could this be’
You can’t answer
I can’t answer
And then -again - I see you die,
Die, inside of me.
Rebecca .A. Huxley
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