an old friend

I’m familiar with death but not because I’ve died
I first met death when it stole an old friend
Taking pieces of my life without asking
To a place I couldn’t follow
I don’t forget the one who stole from me 

I resented death until it came around twice more
And I had to stop resenting the end of someone else’s time 
Time is not delegated 
Life is not owned
Even death knows it is not deserved 

I tried negotiating with death
To trade and take me instead
But I never got an answer
Death is selective with who it speaks to
Or maybe my grief made me unreachable

Or maybe I’ve forgotten an old friend’s voice
And I can’t hear them call my name
Maybe they know their absence became normal
Maybe they stopped banging on the air between us
And took their final form as a memory

Bringing flowers feels like an act of acceptance
A reward for what death has done
I stopped showing up on holidays
And started missing birthdays
Death won when I gave up

I have to trust that death will take care of the stolen
I have to rely on death to keep them company
Until it’s my turn to cross over
To the place that’s consumed my existence
Only when I meet death will I become unfamiliar

Death
The unliving
The immortal
The unknown
The only certainty

Death
My old friend