The letters haunt me at night

They’re why I wake up at 2 am in a fright

They’re etched in my brain and tattooed in my palms

I can recite the stories like psalms

But I wish these endings weren’t permanent

Obituaries, death’s testament

Black letters on gray

I hold them like cards every Sunday

But they’re not to be played

People: some young, some old, some I know

It’s interesting how our paths overlap

All the adventures, families, cities, hobbies – a map

I can’t clip them all out and put them in a folder

All the clippings add up

Is it because I’m getting older

Does anyone hold all of them

As if death is where we really begin

As if life does mean something

What are we all becoming

I want to see those letters revoked

Death’s finality erased

To look each of those people in the face

Maybe then I’ll sleep

When I know that Death no longer has teeth

Are all those boxed paragraphs just the prelude

That’s what I like to conclude

Is the end of this where we begin

All these obituaries, I hope, are just a signpost back to Eden