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