By Rutwicka Reddy
Do we fear the dark because coffins are unlit?
Do we fear the cold,
anticipating the end of warmth?
Do we fear insects and spiders
because they crawl up our lifeless bodies,
feasting on the remnants of our flesh?
Do we fear unfamiliar noise
because we anticipate it in the silence?
Do we create memories
to keep our minds occupied in the stillness?
Do we conjure voices in our heads
to keep us company
as we lay scattered beneath patchy grasslands?
Do we anticipate death because we are prepared—
or do we fear death because we have lived it?
Too much thought
into something
that might just be the end.