What if I didn’t believe in death?

No, seriously hear me out.

What would happen if we didn’t give death the credence and intensity with which we let it fill our lives?

I think about death all the time

Not just in terms of my belief in ghosts (I know what I saw)

But in the many ways it looms over me and my life

Many people I have grown up to know are now gone

Even now relatives are on the brink, wherever that is

And I think about my own death

Even though, in all likelihood, it is no longer near me.

There is such fear in it

The prospect of nothing, of losing myself

And then I wonder what am I

Am I an I

If I think am I real?

But one day I thought

What if death wasn’t real

At least not in the immensity that we perceive it.

If we paid it the least amount of attention possible

Would death have as much power?

Who would then use death as a punishment or as a way to control

Who would live in fear?

And if there is no inherent fear, who then would choose to hate?

I wonder if I didn’t believe in death

I would do more

I would be kinder to myself

I would only acknowledge life as the one truth of my being

Maybe I’m not real

But if death takes hold of me

I acknowledge that someday I will be nothing

And according to what we know about the Universe

There can’t be nothing.

So what if I didn’t believe in death?

Maybe I’ll see a future with no end

Only beginnings.


©Abigail Siegel, 2020

MA in Classics: Latin poetry as well as myth and folklore. Writes mostly poetry and book reviews. Part-time Latin tutor: https://latinbyabby.wordpress.com/

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