The beauty of death is silence

Every version of her, now deceased eulogizes the remnant that remains

The beauty of death is silence

The slow fading of a heartbeat, slower, softer, weaker, gone.

The beauty of death is silence.

For when we have died, crucifying the past and resurrecting the truth of who we are – life begins.

Wanting, hoping, stronger, faster.

The beauty of life is sound, to hear and be heard. To love and be loved. To understand and be understood.

Death is for those who are done. She was.

I’m not.