death and her friends

They used to come at night, death and her friends. I would hide beneath the sheets imagining hooded figures crossing the streets and fields, in their perpetual march, their candles lightening the path of dark for us, mortals to fear.

But I was the child who needed to see. I would sneak through the window seeing a gaze of light in the trail of night... and then nothing. Believing they had left without me I searched every corner looking for any trace of Death and her friends.

Perhaps I did find something and I didn't know it. Perhaps that night I stole something from Death, and that is why she has been hunting ever since. 

1 comment:

  1. Your words and photos are sheer perfection, Irene! I send you all my love!