My Conversation With Death

A poem on eternal best friend

Image by Syaibatul Hamdi from Pixabay

On the full moon night,
She came silently and sat,
She whispered, ‘They all fear me,
they all hate
Nobody wants to meet me,
cursing my name.’

I consoled, ‘Oh dear, come close
and tell me
what is that they fear?’

She yelled, ‘Fear of even talking about me,
Fear of my embrace
I bring such peace
Still, they don’t get it.’

I again said, ‘How can they, my dear death,
They have lived their lives in fear,
They can’t understand,
how great a friend you are,
You’ve always kissed every saint and robber alike,’

She sobbed and looked away
‘But why can’t they understand me’
Muttering mere words.
I held her hand
and wiped away a tear
‘Because they don’t know themselves yet
The fear is not of you
but of all the possessions and wealth