Favourite Poems, 4 : 'A Date with Death' by Gina Puorro

.             (photo: Kurt Markus, for Vogue)
 

This poem also became an instant favourite when someone shared it on Facebook. Read it then I'll tell you why I like it so much.

Death asked me to join him for dinner

so I slipped into my favorite black dress

that I had been saving for a special occasion

and let him walk me to our candlelit tryst.

He ordered a ribeye, extra rare

I ordered two desserts and red wine

and then I sipped

and wondered

why he looked so familiar

and smelled like earth and memory.

He felt like a place both faraway

and deep within my body

A place that whispers to me

on the crisp autumn breeze

along the liminal edges of dusk and dawn

somewhere between dancing

and stillness.

He looked at me

with the endless night sky in his eyes

and asked

‘Did you live your life, my love?’

As I swirled my wine in its glass

I wondered If I understood the thread I wove into the greater fabric

If I loved in a way that was deep and freeing

If I let pain and grief carve me into something more grateful

If I made enough space to be in awe that flowers exist

and take the time to watch the honeybees

drink their sweet nectar

I wondered what the riddles of regret and longing

had taught me

and if I realized just how

beautiful and insignificant and monstrous and small we are

for the brief moment that we are here

before we all melt back down

into ancestors of the land.

Death watched me lick buttercream from my fingers

As he leaned in close and said

‘My darling, it’s time.’

So I slipped my hand into his

as he slowly walked me home.

I took a deep breath as he leaned in close

for the long kiss goodnight

and I felt a soft laugh leave my lips

as his mouth met mine

because I never could resist a man

with the lust for my soul in his eyes

and a kiss that makes my heart stop.

~ Gina Puorro

Author's note: A playful love poem to Death, because I want to remember to relate to it as a part of life, and in ways that exist outside of violence and brutality.

I love this poem because it has a gentle and thoughtful view of death. It is not the spectral caped figure, it's George Clooney or someone like that and he is urbane and charming and interested in you. It's actually quite a pleasant night out, even though it will be your last.

And the things that she thinks of when Death asks if she lived her life are all the questions you should have. Dont regret; just think back to the way you lived and what you saw and how you loved. And gratitude for this glorious, messy, uncontrollable life has to be there, surely.

And the end of your life is no more important nor less important than any other part of it. It's all of a piece and what comes next need not concern us when there is so much glory in this world to think about.