Death rings a bell and I open the door to the entrance way. For the first time I know what loss looks like. I know what loss feels like. I was ten years old and though I already knew that we were never given a forever, I just didn’t know what endings looked like, how endings felt. Until I lost my Mema.

Now death rings a bell because it’s all too familiar. It has entered now too many times uninvited. I look up from a book and all of a sudden, Death is making us a pot of tea, because It knows that I’ll need it…after the news.

Death explains to me that it will no longer ring my doorbell for entry, by now I should know its feel, its look, its words, its subtle cringing. Death says I should smell its scent, that of old roses and fresh melancholy.

Death has a confident swag, a secure way of being. It knows that it will always be this forevermore, the end of a beginning of the circle and cycles of life. It knows that it will never be like us, wondering what it should be, searching the forest floors and beaches for a purpose. Death will always know who it is, and what it came to be.

Unlike We, unlike us, unlike me.

Reign has been writing since she was eight years old, being inspired by Poe, and Nikki Giovanni. She is 52 years old and has rediscovered her love for poetry and creative writing. She also spends time on the internet with women teaching about self love and self esteem. She resides in New Mexico on an apple orchard enjoying life with her best friend, 3 dogs, and a cat. Reign’s mission is to educate people about her heritage and history and to help others accept and make peace with the darker side of life. 

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