Frustration with Death

Dear Death,

You must cease to play games with my heart. I am really not sure how much longer I can bear this back and forth. First one I love is about to embrace you, and then before I know it, you are playing the same game with the life of someone else. STOP! You are making feel as if I am here in this city only to watch you create folly in my bones and weakness in the pit of my stomach.

I am tired of you Death. I am tired of the way you have come too often while I have been home. I am tired of waiting for you to come for the ones I know shouldn't be here any longer.

It is nice, I will admit, to not fear you so. I have watched you hold the hands of ones I love, and I am comfortable with you, though you bring that fresh pain every time I see your hands reach out and touch ones I love. Personally, I have not seen your face, but I don't suspect that I will for many a year. My life is still too firmly in this world for me to know the expressions that play across your brow and lips.

I will ask this, Please Death, do not make their passing long and rough. Be a gentle sly fox, who sneaks in at night and steals away in love and charity. Do not startle us with blood and fear the way the angry terrors of dawn have done. Creep slowly, assuredly, after we have held and cried with those we carry so close, linger only faintly and then take them away to wherever you go.

But please, after all of this, please stop this game you play with my heart. I am willing to love you. I am willing to let you in. But you must stop taking advantage of my willingness. You must guard my heart. You must be a gentleman... or I will wage a war on you so fierce you won't know what hit you. If you force me to fight, as you are now, I will fight fight fight, the dying of the night. I do not fear you, and you are not unwelcome. But come rightly death, and not with games and tricks. Come with Dances, Death, for then I will know you.