So I Came Home

I peeked through death’s door yesterday. It was ajar. I looked inside, rooted, neither in nor out, whilst, extraneously, a flurry of saviours did their all to cling my soul to life.

I glimpsed inside, oblivious yet conscious of bodily ministration whilst standing on the edge of a bright candyfloss miasma, an all-encompassing, all-enveloping corona of pink.

It holds no fear for me now, my death; I have met you but not yet grown accustomed to your face. I know now my ultimate destination but not the nature of my passing.

So, Reaper, I fear not your scythe for my time, but save that fear for those who grieve, for I have seen the heartache, the ripping of the fibres, the sheer depth of sorrow that is caused by your harvest.

I was held awhile at death’s door but no-one was there for me…So I came home.