Aberrant Maia

Death Is Our Home

Black and white picture of a hand hovering over a skull

We are citizens of death
Merely loaned to life
For a fleeting second
And nothing more.

Our home is the sweet fragrance of death.
It is our abode.
Our solace.
Our confidante.

Like a young child full of awe,
Life should be viewed with widened eyes.
Because life in itself is foreign.
And death,
Sweet young death,
Death is familiar.

We cease to remember the womb of death
Because memories of our past robs us of the joy of the present.
But before we were born, we were dead.

Death is not our foe.
It is us.
We are death.
We all are elements of death woven together
And till each of us finishes our tour of life
The fabric of death will never be complete.

– Ayeyi Ohene-Adu

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