Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

Is this death, this dull ache in my back?

What of these pains that pulse through my body?

This fear that sleeps and wakes with me, is it death

like a crow picking on carrion in the street?

Is she death, this face that greets me in the mirror each morning?

This woman I do not recognize?

This exhaustion, is it death

ringing the bell, waring me that the time for eternal rest is fast approaching?

Perhaps it is death.

I do not like it though.

I prefer to believe it is life.

Life marching on.

Life marching over me.

Perhaps I will grab hold of it

and let it carry me along

through this maelstrom that rages for an eternity

or a moment.

Perhaps, when the winds die and the sea stops churning,

there will be peace

peace in this life

before death.