TRACES SPRING 2016 - Page 8

A Collection of Letters from Death

By China Ciongoli

Dear 98 year old woman,

I see you in your bed. You are lying still, unable to move.

I did that for you. No need to thank me.

But I do have a question for you.

Don’t you think it’s time to go?

Aren’t you being selfish if you stay another year or two?

People around you need to get on with their lives. Can’t you see that?

Oh! That’s right! You can’t! Because I have made you more familiar with your eyelids.

Once again, no need to thank me.

Why don’t you just call it quits?

Or better yet, I will.

Dear 4 year old with cancer,

I know you’ve been feeling weak lately.

That’s because I have been taking your strength since the day you were born.

You have only really known life and death.

You don’t know the outside world because I have made you a isolated home inside your hospital bed. Your skin matches the white, bright lights.

I have made you my masterpiece. Others see you as sick or decaying.

I see you as an angel. I see you as an angel because you are so close to becoming one.

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