Poetry

Death is whispering
her sweet lies, “look how alluring I am. Come
witness my relief.”
She smiles, and he missed the glint
of evil. Why
does he stare into Her dark?
I felt the echo, deep down,
behind the door
of ignorance.
Death was watching
from her perch of perfect patience.
She pounced finally;
a quick pop to the chest. She missed.
She struck through the misery and the still,
but
failed to claim this willing heart.
He didn’t go. Why
did he stay? Hope knows
it’s her turn now, “how shall I begin?”
And Love has to know,
“will I be enough?”