Death’s Divorce

on Leonora Carrington’s The Saints of Hampstead Heath, 1997

I don’t know what I expected death to be like.

But it wasn’t this.

While living, I heard the stories, theories, and beliefs.

Reincarnation. Heaven. Hell. Nothing?

It all made death appear so frightening.

Now I lay here listening,

as a raven and an angel argue over custody of me.

It feels so familiar. Like I’m back in the courtroom

watching my parent’s divorce.

Wondering what I did to cause their loss of love.

Here, I listen to a replay of my life.

Of my best and worst moments.

“Think of all of his sins. He shouldn’t go with you.”

“But think of his kind heart. There’s more good in him.”

I don’t know if I truly deserve to go with either of them.

Was I evil enough to go with the raven?

Was I perfect enough to go with the angel?

Seems like they don’t know either.