Death is not an Outlaw
They tell me
That Death is not a handsome fellow
That he is skeletal and grim
Favors long hooded robes
And shoes that make no sound
As he shuffles across hardwood floors
Up creaky stairs
To stand in shadow by your bed.
They tell me
That he's a thief
Coming to claim lives
And what is not rightfully his
A collector of souls,
Bagging them up
To sell at market to the highest bidder.
I don't know if that is true
It could be rumor and innuendo
It could be myth and legend,
A fictionalized character
And stuff pulled from nightmares
Too many stories
And eating too late.
But I have my ideas
About Death
And what he does
For a living
It's quite the sad tale
To my way of thinking
Not a career to be envied
Nor a path sweet to walk.
You see
I believe I met Death
When I was young and foolish
And hadn't yet realized
How precious life was
It was just something
I wanted to get over
And be done with.
I had learned to rebel
Not out of spite
But out of necessity
There at the brink
Of womanhood
Still clothed in childhood
In a world of
Perpetually closed doors.
One night in a starlit field
I lay and cried my sorrow down
Into a clovered earth
My horse waited nearby
And all the world seemed silent
To my ears
Except for the horse's nibbling
And the whisper of an owl.
"I wish to die tonight."
I said
And I meant it
Or at least I thought I did
What did I know of dying?
I was a girl who had never known love
Or the taste of a man's mouth,
The rush of passion
Or the sweetness of a touch.
"You don't know what you're saying, girl."
A voice spoke out of the darkness
And I sat up and gasped
And looked around
And saw no one
Just the horse
And the circle of the moon
Peeking behind a blue-white cloud.
"Who's there?" I asked
Afraid to speak
But more afraid to never ask
"Never you mind."
The stranger warned
"And keep your wishes
To yourself."
"What wish?" I wondered
And wished I hadn't.
For there appeared
Before my eyes
In the pool of moonlight
And the twinkling of stars,
A man,
Unlike any man I'd seen
A man
Made of nightmare
Stepping out of a dream.
His eyes were liquid
And full of sadness
His hair was long
And his breath was cold
Tall, he stood
And full of strength
Yet he gave the impression
Of a man
Near to death.
"What do you want?"
I whispered
Into his beautiful face
And his eyes held mine
Then looked away
"I want you to live."
He softly answered
As the owl screeched
And flew to a far-away tree.
"But I don't want to."
I shook my head
"There's nothing to live for
And nobody cares."
"I care." he told me
But
I did not understand.
"I can only take your life
If you don't want it
Those are the rules, the way it was
And the way it'll always be
I took my life
From the hands of the Giver
For I didn't want it
Till it was no longer mine."
"Who are you?" I shouted
As I ran to my horse
Preparing to gallop
And to never look back
But the horse wouldn't budge
As the man blocked the way
His hand on the bridle
And his eyes, glowing bright.
"Pray you never learn my name
Pray you never know
You are a child and foolish
As was I, eons ago
For my punishment is hard to bear
And my fate, a hated thing
Thankful be for the breath you take,
For every sad song you will sing."
And with that, he turned away to leave
Stoop shouldered, elderly
No longer young and beautiful
But an ancient, awful form
His steps were slow and silent
And every where his feet touched,
The grass turned brown.
Before he vanished
From my sight,
He lifted his hand and sadly waved
His eyes sought mine in kind compassion
With the sliver of a smile
Upon his face
It was then I saw
That he carried two bags
One that was bulging,
Emitting terrible cries.
And one bag of gray
Sewn with threads made of sorrow
Swung from the shoulder
Of his raven black coat
That bag looked so strange
Yet it looked so familiar,
That bag was empty
And I knew it was mine.
I cannot prove it
But I believe I know
That I met Death
On that star covered field
In the angst of my youth,
Many sad songs ago
My life, now a treasure
Filled with beauty and light
Given meaning and magic
On that terrible night.
And
Though I offered him my life,
He did not take it
But rebuked me
Like a loving friend
Like a lover of my soul
Not as an outlaw or a villain
But as a hero,
Forever unsung.
So many times I since have wondered
What punishment he bore for that kind act
What fire he walked through
Failing his orders
How many sad souls
He did not deliver
How many empty bags, carried
At the end of the day.
©by Voo
June 21, 1010
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