If life can be worse than death,
so much so that some people volunteer to die,
is death never worse than life,
since no one who made that choice,
(or had death chosen for them)
has ever come back from it?
Author’s note:
I’m not feeling suicidal in the slightest.
But the more I think about death,
the less I fear it.
I think the first few times you really sit in the idea of death,
it can be overwhelming.
But like with all great things,
it can be a bad idea to rush into it too fast.
Especially since I only see death villainized:
when we sit with our thoughts of death,
thoughts we’ve been told to ignore,
run in fear of, hold prejudice against,
to arm ourselves with every supplement
that Amazon could possibly sell you
in the fleeting hope of escaping it,
we are more rude to death
than death would ever be to us.
And probably it’s not even death we’re fearing,
it’s the people like us who might fling it upon us
in the cruelest ways we can imagine.
At this moment,
I believe I was born from death.
And I will die into death.
I’m not even sure how different this
‘life’ is from ‘death’.
Hmm, who knows!
I do know, that death scares me less than it did yesterday.
And the more I think about it, the more ready I am
for its assured embrace.