Death is Knocking at My Door

Death is Knocking at My Door

Death is knocking at my door.

I’ve refused them entry before,

But like fate, the longer I wait,

The more I crave their beckoning bait.

Death is knocking at my door,

Again— again, and once more.

I’m tired of sleeping beneath my bed

But if I trail outside, I’m dead, so

I best hide here to avoid its stead.

It is late, and Death still knocks at my door.

“One..two..three..four..”

The eternal damning drums implore

With relentless knocks that rattle my core.

I beg of thee, Death, please!

Grant me reprieve.

Hear my voice!

Allow me leave!

A voice whispers back,

“Dear one, breathe.”—

“The one you fear isn’t death, but me,

The one who could, might, or possibly be.

Death is near, just not yet here.

We are often mixed up, but

I am Life, my dear.”