I don’t know if I fear death Itself by Waverly Vernon

[208 words]

I used to walk beside it,
     hand in hand, fed it 
         scraps from my plate,
           let it curl at the foot of my bed
         like a stray dog I never named.

     Some nights, I thought,
  "This is the last one."

 Brushed my teeth anyway.

      I grew older.
            Not softer, but rooted.
                Found things worth staying for.
                  A laugh that cracks my ribs open,
                    the way clay dries under my nails,
                        a voice across a room that makes me look up.
                           That is what I fear.

                       Not death—

                 but the leaving.
              But the absence.
          But the unfinished lines
        left scrawled in the margins.

     I fear
   not telling someone
  I loved them in time.
  I fear
  not being missed
    by the earth itself.
       I fear
         how regret tastes—
            metallic, cold,
                 a tongue bitten too late.

                   But this
                   is human,
                  instinct.
               the marrow’s cry:
             survive
         So you can say:
       “Look. I was here. 
     I made this. 
       I meant it.”

       We are not
         above the cycle,
            not exceptions,
               compost in waiting.
                
                    If my existence
                    was not enough
                   for heaven
                 or history—
               let it be enough
              for the dandelions.
              Let my bones break down
                and make a few more flowers.

                  That is a life.
                   That is worth
                  every breath
                I took
           in fear.

Waverly Vernon (she/they) is a writer and interdisciplinary artist from Florida currently studying at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Their work explores politics, religious deprogramming, and trauma, transforming personal experience into connection and dialogue. They are the author of the micro chapbook “soft-skinned”, published by Bottlecap Press. Their poetry has also been published by Wildscape Literary Journal, Creation Magazine, Arcana Poetry Press, among others.

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