Come Death, She said

Come Death,  She said

Breathe into me, breathe into my body so small.

The first breath I took when borne was the breathe-gift of Death who made me alive. Breathing her kiss into me was a promise made to each of us when we nearly strangle ourselves out of the swimming life of in utero nirvana, gasping at our own will and its achievement over this major  physical endeavor to leave protection and become a bare naked human being.

The most vulnerable choice is to become distinct from mother,  to encapsulate a soul inside interlinking DNA, and commence … an individual.

Come Death, She said,  I said.

Breathe into me, come into me, my only friend, my only friend until end.

Life becomes a house of pain, the body too small to contemplate how to bear, its chamber only knows how to breathe. No matter the pain the tiny self can still breathe, even when gasping,  grasping, so easily reminded its birth-gift and first promise.

Death is always near, with every breath she stares, and supports life by giving more, more gift kisses and exhales. When your life closes on you it is the first time you realize it is not of death for which you fear, it is the pain of life and grief, mixed with much joy and pleasure, that you fear and knowing one day this will end before you faithfully stretched your contemplation to recognize just a few more moments, a few more reminders and the it is finished.

Breathe into me Death, my only friend, my only friend from the beginning to the end.





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