A poem inspired by Emily Dickinson
Dear death
How can I stay
when you,
more than life,
make me feel
seen?
They call you cruel,
but I have seen
the gentleness in your cruelty—
the mercy in your ending,
the way you unburden bones
and hush the screaming thoughts
no one else could hear.
What if the ones who scream
are not cruel,
but trying to anchor me
to a world they still believe
can bloom?
And I—
have I given everything a chance?
Or have I fallen
so in love with the idea
of not hurting
that I’ve forgotten
what healing might feel like?
Do not rush.
But when you come home,
come softly.
Let me fall
like a candle into darkness,
like a secret
finally heard.
But even now,
as I write your name
with steady hands,
something inside me trembles.
What if I’m wrong?
What if your silence
is not peace,
but absence?
What if the ache I carry
is not a curse,
but a call—
a sign that I was meant
to stay,
to fight,
to feel
just a little more?
What if the ones who scream
are not cruel,
but trying to anchor me
to a world they still believe
can bloom?
And I—
have I given everything a chance?
Or have I fallen
so in love with the idea
of not hurting
that I’ve forgotten
what healing might feel like?
- Alexis M Levine
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