Meeting Life’s Dark Wife

Death was, and was not, what I expected. The dark flowing robe, the hood shadowing a gleaming skull – it was all there. The eyes were a surprise though. On close inspection, the dark sockets contained galaxies of stars, whirling slowly in the black void. What I didn’t expect was the feminine vibe – not sexy, but motherly.

We stood side by side over my peacefully reposed body, a book held loosely in my dead hand.

“Damn, now I’ll never know how it ends.”

“IT WOULD SEEM, FOR YOU, IT ENDS ON PAGE 178,” said a voice like granite mountains colliding, with the hint of a melodic echo.

“Are you a woman?”

“LIFE IS THE CREATIVE. I AM THE RECEPTIVE. SOME CONSIDER THOSE MALE AND FEMALE FORCES, RESPECTIVELY; BUT AS TO YOUR QUESTION, I HAVE NO ANSWER.”

“Did you have to kill me now? I have so much left to do!”

“I DO NOT KILL. SINCE YOU SEE ME AS FEMALE, THINK OF ME AS A MIDWIFE, ATTENDING YOUR BIRTH INTO THE NEXT PHASE OF YOUR JOURNEY.”

Death chuckled – mighty boulders crushed together at the ocean’s bottom.

“A WRITER ONCE REFERRED TO ME AS LIFE’S DARK WIFE.”

I recognized the words. They were from my poem, “Danse Macabre.”

“IT IS TIME.”

“But…”

“IT IS TIME.”

Death pointed a bony finger to something behind me. I felt a hot dry desert wind at my back. Turning, I saw sands stretching into the distance. A glow on the horizon could have been a setting or rising sun – or perhaps the lights of a city. Interesting.

“What’s out there? Is it heaven, or…the other place?”

“I DO NOT KNOW. I CANNOT KNOW. IT IS ONLY FOR YOU TO DECIDE.”

Death slowly faded away. Alone in the desert, I sighed. Then I began to trudge toward the light.

-DeRicki Johnson