Observing Death with the Stoics

I walked with the stoics

to the cliffs of death


I peered over the same ledge,

down into the same ice black waters


and I tried so hard to breathe

in the rush of freezing ache


kicking and squirming and

trying not to make a sound


while they sat with their hands folded

and shed no tears


and I felt the whole thing

like a stake skewering me

to the funeral home seat.

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