Riding with Death

 

We ride out

into darkness.

Behind us,

the soft glow

of our only star

begins to lend some definition

to the horizon.

Forward is pitch black.

We used to think

that it was the unknown,

but we know better, now.

 

Forward lies Death.

A grim reality,

but one we are well acquainted with.

Along our trail,

we have seen him,

lurking in shadows,

or bathed in daylight,

laying his hand on

whomever,

whenever he pleases.

 

We used to be afraid

when Death was near.

Our bowels would turn to water,

and we would quake,

and wail as if we were dying.

We misgendered our fear,

and our shame in it,

called it “anxiety”,

and thought we were

victims of a cruel fate.

We were not.

We still had the work,

and the pain,

and the battles ahead.

 

The darkness.

In this darkness

we will find the mountain,

the one we shall live under.

Beneath its ramparts,

we will call the valley “Home”,

and we shall dwell there,

side by side

with Death.

 

Soon,

there is light all over,

but our eyes don’t see it.

Freedom doesn’t mean

that you are free,

but only that your actions

breed consequences

common with the full truth

of the world.

Death rides before us,

and the Sun

burns up our pasts,

until all we have is the mountain,

forever.

 

 

HG – 2022

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