A Conversation with Death
by Donna Bucher
A CONVERSATION WITH DEATH
Intoxicated with your own bravado.
Pride’s stench oozing from your pores.
Your walk—
a swagger.
A sneer in the gravel of your voice.
You look down on me—
broken.
“Winner takes all,” you spit out,
contemptuously tossing
a sheet of paper on the table.
One trembling glance, my eyes drink the bitter cup.
Truth—
my dreams, loves, worthiness.
Even my identity lay slain before me.
Stories of betrayal, neglect, abuse
stripped my innocence—
tore away my will.
Things most precious—
stolen, destroyed.
Deeper still burn the unspeakable wounds
of grief gnawing through my heart.
All a ruthless hand wrought,
so sure he held victory.
O Foolish Death, the crushing blow you struck
brought beginning, not end!
But though you seek life and love to quench,
None can you hold.
For Death, powerless you stand,
your work but strengthens what remains.
You-
a pawn, a mere instrument
in the hand of Another.
Deftly wielded, purges worthless dross,
idols, worldly infatuations -
hubris
from a life no longer mine.
Seething red, your whole countenance
swelling in putrid rage, you vomit:
“Lies! No one owns me!
Conquering, consuming,
I take all.”
Burning gall of grief scorched my throat
at the thunder of his words.
Metallic coldness like a knife blade
lingered in my mouth.
Swallowing hard-
I stood.
What you crushed lives-
reborn.
Through Him who was dead
yet now lives forever more.
You-
disarmed, humiliated, openly shamed,
stripped of the keys
no longer yours.
Now held by One who your chains tore asunder.
Now no condemnation—
no shame.
No guilt—
you wield only ashes
of a life purged from all.
Reborn from those ashes, I rise!
Like new growth splits wide the earth.
No power you possess
thwarts this Rebirth!
For swallowing Death, Christ rose,
“Winner Takes All.”
Now I am Redeemed, Reborn—
Restored.
And you?
A defeated foe.