Dear Death,

I don’t know how to begin with you.
You are the shadow I dare not name too often,
the visitor I hope comes late,
the mystery I both fear and, strangely, respect.

They say you are the end,
but some say you’re a door.
Some say you bring peace,
others say you’re the thief in the night.

All I know is this:
your silence frightens me.
Your unpredictability unsettles me.
And yet… your presence reminds me to live.

You walk beside every heartbeat,
yet I pretend not to see you.
Sometimes I wonder:
Will you be kind to me?
Will you be sudden? Slow?
Will I be ready — or will I cling?

My mother says she wants to go in peace.
In her sleep. No pain, no tubes, no long goodbyes.
I nod, but my heart tightens.
Because your name, Death,
also means I’ll have to say goodbye
to the ones I love.

And yet…
What if you’re not just darkness?
What if you are a return? A release?
A deep exhale after all the holding on?

I don’t want to fear you,
but I don’t yet trust you either.
Maybe that’s okay.

Until we meet — may it be long from now —
I hope to live fully,
to love deeply,
to forgive freely,
so that when you do come,
I will not meet you as a stranger,
but as a quiet companion
who has always walked just behind me.

Karin Sabrina