Death was an ancient traveller.
He was surprised that the old woman
opened the door for him so freely,
embraced him so tightly.
She found a form of comfort in his
hollowed face as he hid in the shadows
of her candle lit hut.
To her, Death was familiarity,
he was a constant, he was the cause
of all tears and laughter. She brings
Death to her hearth, wraps him
in sheep’s wool and tells him she has
loved him for her life time. She lights
the fire and tells him, she knows him
better than she knows the stars,
and that he is her closest friend.
You have been there for me
since the moment you birthed me.
She whispers to Death as she kneels
beside him. You were there when my crops
burnt to ash in July’s heat. You were there
when my fields drowned in heavy rain.
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