Letters To Azreal

• Nikkia Goodall, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2019

Silent thief, Dark as night, Widow’s grief, Cause of fright,
Accept these questions, of my fate, Ease my mind, Take the bate,
Are you kind, Or are you blunt, Or leave me helpless, a feeble hunt,
Do you cradle, those helpless ones, Or leave them crying for their mums,
Do you nurse those never born, Or curse them hungry, as mothers mourn,
Are you quick, a numbing shock, Or watch me cry, a heart like rock,
Will you speak and comfort me, Or sit in silence to my misery,
Will I part with my mistakes, Or take me whole, cracks and breaks,
Will I feel the daunting chill, Or feel nothing, an all blank kill,
Will I see my long gone friends, Or ride alone to my heavy end,
Will you thrust me into death, Careless warnings, don’t hold your breath,
Or take the time, perhaps my hand, And show me you’re, a gentleman,
will I rejoice, or dread my choice, Crack a smile, or sob a while,
I don’t know, what you will do, Unnerving I admit, but yes it’s true,
Mystery lies, at every bend, At least I hope, that in the end,
Birthed in death and the unknown, I will not spend this time alone.