Yet death remains
I am death.
I’m in the loss of my beloved dog,
not as the grim reaper but in the tears.
In the death of the beloved.
In the stillness of my mother
circling the same disappointments of my father.
In the death of letting go.
In the silence
when betrayals pierced my heart
and the search for my soulmate
became a lie.
In the death of seeking love.
Not in the loud cries
when my grandmother died,
but in the eyes that stood dry
at her funeral,
emotionless.
In the death of all emotions.
I am death.
Death is the end of all things, everywhere, every time —
yet death itself remains eternal.
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