Death. by Ama Francis

Some think that death

Is this fierce cruel thing

With weapons on its back

And blood on its hands

Some say that death grins

With a sack full of souls

That its hiding in the shadows of the world

Waiting for who will fall next.

But they’re wrong.

Death is a soft gentle thing

Full of soft reassurances and kind words

Death lets you hear the laughter in the next room

As it lays you to bed

And the blood on its knuckles aren’t from violence

Or a sick sadism

The blood is from wiping away cuts

And staunching bleeds

And death knows that you can’t fit a soul in a sack

Souls belong in the earth

Encased in winding vines

And wrapped in cotton.

And death is the first to put a flower on your grave

To sweep your hair back and tuck you in for the last time.

As you wait for the angel to come and ask you

Its damning questions.

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Ama Francis

Ama Francis is a student and emerging writer with a deep interest in culture, history, and the human experience. Her work often draws on themes of memory, identity, and resilience. She is passionate about using words to preserve stories and spark reflection.

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