No longer do I understand the secrets in our Souls, I thought to myself, as I stared at Death in the rear view mirror whom was alive and kicking. Unsure I was of how she became my dark passenger on this midnight drive, but we had miles to go, and the clock was ticking. At a Stop Light, Death observed millions of people walking along the sidewalks of their lives,and grinned with entertainment one last time as she spoke out “Funny how humans think they’re queens and kings – when they’re actually Angels with Devils wings.” I interrupted Death and said “My dear good Woman, here is something you haven’t seen, a place where you haven’t been, a place where you can finally dream.”
We were close to the front door of her greatest fear; Heaven. When we arrived-Death exited my vehicle so eloquently and elegantly; like a movie starlet on the red carpet. She halted and turned to say“At any cost would it be too much to ask if we stopped and chat with Robert Frost?” She smiled and motioned with a finger to follow, and began to shuffle down these forgotten gates to a freedom, that only I could understand, and a beat she could only hear. “We could do something better, we can sit under the Brooklyn Bridge with Joseph Heller.”I replied as we danced a Harlem Shuffle side by side.
We continued down this transcendental street hand in hand, through hills, over mountains, across rivers, finally reaching the fields of heaven.“I haven’t been here before, although familiar, no wonder am I abhorred. A beacon so they can find their way ashore, only to have ache in their voices, as I close the door.”I marveled at Death as she spoke and I added “No longer will you be, a master of fate and disaster, unfortunate it’s time to close this chapter. And from this moment on and after your days will be spent in azure.”Full of displeasure and distemper, at the sound of my word, she waved her hand and turned the ambrosial field into a theater of the absurd.
I stood aghast, but charmed, as she continued this execrable exhibition. Her hands were reaching towards the heavens for words that would never come down. She asked me“Can you hear the marching…the gospel of everyone? Angels singing, virgins in the dungeon, no one can run. In the darkest corner voices calling and voices dying young.” I tried as hard as I could, but that symphony of music she heard would not grace the audience of a non-believer. “Until our destination, I cannot hear Drake’s Drum; we are too far from Plymouth shore. Wait we will for the watchman, seraphim you become, perched on God’s Throne so no longer can you cast War.” Death ignored my words, and continued to wave her hands to the heavens like a maestro of her macabre, and ordered her pseudo symphony to decrescendo and stated“Can you smell the Carrions all around? Can you see time passed and the Hespers Fallen down? Can you my Lost Lamb? Scribes at each corner of the land with scripture once forgotten now found. Ghost ships side by side, lovers tongue tied, brought here to die.”
I spoke not a word for Death had struck a vein of sympathy in me. Her long white veil drugged my senses, perhaps I was too foolish to see, or perhaps not ready to see what Death Saw, or perhaps not ready for Death at All. To this I uttered“Disheartened am I by your tears, but the prophets and seers, whisper deplorably and dreadfully I reminded, and your darkened corner once existed; are you now confined in, leaving your corpse barren and twisted.”Her eyes saddened and her soul weakened at the sound of my words; it was time for her to come home.
The Black Cloak Worn by Death turned into bones, bones into flesh, until the only thing that remained was an elderly woman shaking and trembling of the Cold Blackness she once was. Her face, now prolonged and fixed stared out the window, possibly at all the regrets that walked before her, possibly all the things never accomplished, but something in her wonder said it was the life she never lived a life she will miss. At that particular moment, a single teardrop fell from her eye, as the tear drop fell across her cheek; her skin became radiant like Gods only White Dove. The elderly woman wiped the tear away from her eye, and let her hand fall beside. Her hand opened and out fell a white feather. I watched the feather fall gently to the ground and I kneeled down to pick it up for the elderly woman. But when I came back up she was gone, vanished without a trace, the Elderly woman Finally Found Peace with Death.
