death – Wolverine Lily

The Living Race

Life got in the way of
living—

Some trudge to survive,
others scroll through it—
numbed.

All racing time,
chasing filters of
inevitable loss.

Death waits at the finish line,
scythe in one hand,
stopwatch in the other,

whispering:

“All that way,
and not one deep breath.
Tell me—
would you have danced this race
if the crowd didn’t watch?”

She struggled to sit,
bones shivering,
staggered—

A feeble growl
a warning, stay back.
I held her eyes—
black as shungite,
two mirrors of agony,
pleading.

I’d pray against needles,
a quiet, natural end.
I couldn’t—

She battled upright,
for one last exchange.
Her blackest pools
reflected death itself,
hurling an awl into my heart.

I knew.
It was time—
her—to go,
mine—to let her go.

Now,
no barks for a mailman,
a leash chimes on a hanger,
a tennis ball cornered in silence.

And I—
I still see her pain,
engraved in my eyelids.
Two mirrors—
death staring, haunting—
burned into me
like black ice.

Author’s Note:
It’s been years; time has moved on, yet this has never left me.