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To Death,

an open letter to 'Death' by Ahmad Khazali

art by Sara Hesham @arttattackk To death,

You've been able to take lots of lives, destroy families, ravage hearts right as shivering bodies encounter you for the first, last, and only time. You've even taken people away from me, and yet no one truly understands you. Do we entertain you as we arduously produce lacking theories about your magic? Cling to faith despite never experiencing your touch? Or follow your lead to the hereafter of which some of us absolutely believe (or refuse to believe) in?

They've never spoken directly to you, only about you... seemingly behind your back. Are we so afraid to look you in the eye? If we'll disregard you at times, worry you're getting closer other times, and hypocritically assume you're no good all the time, what gives us the right to assert you as anything other than a natural occurrence that sustains our environment just as life does?

Every family member, friend, and stranger are so quick to ask about the nature of your deed as if it makes any difference. "Was it a sudden death? Was it comfortable? Did the doctors put pain meds into the IVs?" What does it matter? The soul is gone, you’ve taken it as yours and there's nothing anyone could ever do about it. Isn’t it ignorant to assume someone could ever be happy to accept you, feel comfortable around you, or smoothly transition into the grave of which you silently produced for a client who, sometimes, is so unaware of your tickling of their face, ears, mouth, and organs (open your deadly arms, I wish to embrace you).

We obsess over you and waste our time thinking about how we'll meet you someday. Some are selfish enough to make the appointment themselves. You don't let that bother you though, you listen to them and accept their request. I'd bet you enjoy being the center of attention so often during funerals, except the eulogy of course...

Sometimes I wish we could be more mechanized about you. Forgive you easier, never mind you quicker, move on from you... if ever. Other times I am dumbfounded by how selfish we act following your presentation. Why would I deny your natural process and wish nothing but to undo what you’ve done? I haven’t been invited to the chamber the soul you take occupies and yet I so loudly declare my existence right outside it. How could you possibly have so much power over the world without ever stepping foot in it? I envy your perfect track record. Always on time, never skip a day, keep your mouth shut and do your job without question. Whether it's the four year old littering love or the con man criminal defense attorney whose granddaughter’s hand rests by his side in the hospital room, you don't discriminate. Blinded with the veil of emotionless destruction, your only fruit (chaos) is produced indefinitely. Blooming through all four lethal seasons, your spikes ground themselves with surrounding white soil (birth). I don’t understand why you still look beautiful.

I'll keep in touch,

A future client of yours


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