New Back Door

Swallow up death in victory

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Although it still aches,

I have realized that death

is little more than the swish

of thick, maroon stage curtains,

rimmed with gold and opened—

and closed—with thunderous applause.

We wait on both sides of the stage.

Some clap and cry and ache from

the rambunctious emotions sizzling

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

from the actors. And as they bow

like peasant queens and kings

and slip through the veil of skinny fabric,

their fellow dancers and bards and prophets

applaud them on the other side.

Those perched in the stands and seats

do not shed tears, even as the great act

ends, finishes, dies with the close of night

and the opening of a new moon.

The acting thieves and mothers,

princes and scoundrels, brothers

and unrequited lovers, all slip through

the swishing back door.

I will remember the rush of dazzle

and danger, the harmonic love and war,

the silent speech of crystal tears

hovering in bright, defiant, living eyes.

At the close, we all return to home.