Death XIII (Major Arcana)

“i know i may not pass this test
but oh, Death
i’ll raise my eyes to the sky
give me great feathered wings to fly
but please, now is not my time to die
i’ve been speaking with the dead
Removed from my physical proximity
But riling through my lungs, oxygen
regimented pain, reminding me of purpose
as i hurl myself
unflinching, unblinking
into the glow of luminescent tomorrows
without you, i have been speaking with the dead
SHE who was reluctant to reveal my amputated dreams
but keeps me in her good graces
beCause i love her
i have to tell her
there are those who would defang you
sprinkling disreputable memories in the well-water of your good-ness
those discontents roaming aimlessly
shouting voices unheard
SHE speaks to me in dreams
her melancholic whispers prevent my fevered reconsiderations
SHE knows
SHE showed me my future, became my past
in what seemed like the same breath
in my remembrance
i explode backwards
my rarely punctuated heartbeat
runs on setencing me daily to begin without her
those lingering pomegranate sunsets ready me for her meticulous inspection
we see the same stars
and i will continue building this legacy we started together
grateful that SHE armed me with conviction in my condemnation
will not falter in her absence
i will luminate every horizon revealed to me
‘Cause i’m not angry anymore
my insomniatic refusals to continue conversations we started
when SHE was in the flesh no longer
called from my ranker
though, there are days when her presence is skin i’ve never shed
there are days when the rustling of leaves resembles her laughter and I spin on my heels
seeking her face in a box of dead trees
there are days when i miss her like teeth
but I promise, I’m not angry anymore
because I know she would’ve given her life to be here
and I am here
eagerly awaiting the blanket of stars to cover me so that when slumber finally takes me
SHE and I
we will continue this

we’re shaking cold with anticipation
i’ve fallen off the wagon
but you still choice to warm my hands in yours
despite the cough in your lungs.
your eyes tell me
the ring on your finger
has never been heavier.

the calm before the storm
is not so calm
when the raindrops falling from the ceiling
don’t know if their floor will be hot coals
ready to fire at any minute
fearful children shooting coping riffles with their mouths
a bullet is as good a tool
as handshake.
children coping in war
killing their own team
we make our choices:
i choose to stand tall amongst the cedars
i choose to bear a low enough fruit for everyone to eat
i choose to comfort
i choose to encourage
i choose to not put down the one that asks for help
i choose kindness.

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