Photo by Stephanie Y.

Darkness came
to take the lost girl
Those who were left
mourned and beat their breasts
They knew not
her unease had fled

No longer imprisoned
by her broken body
her sleep was peaceful
for the first time
since childhood
Night blurred into day

When she woke
an old lady was waiting,
blue dots trailing
across her skin
just as she had
worn them in life

At the woman’s side
stood her son, strong and tall,
a cigarette between his fingers
He smiled a greeting
for the new soul
and held out his arms

Made of neither flesh nor mists,
they were as real to her
as the sun or the moon
and the stars, or her mother
who knelt at the grave
with flowers and incense

The lost and found girl
had not been ready
to untie herself
from their bonds
She fought fiercely
to keep the circle whole

But Death still came.

The realisation struck
in that moment
of parting
that he was neither
angel nor monster
but complexity itself

He had compassionate
globes for eyes,
hands that warmed her
though she was cold
He spun stories of
gold through the dark

So she went with him,
but first she sought
to tell the weary ones
that her days were
a mere drop
in the ocean of time

The old and infirm
would die
and wombs filled
with new children
so the cycle went
fruitful and fruitless
in equal measure

Though she could hear
their beloved voices
at her ear, speech fled
She could bring them
neither comfort
nor acceptance

Their love became
a stone, pressing down
with a jagged edge
It left a deep cut
they wore with pride
in honour of her