Mortal Wager

Something new and also my very late contribution to this year's NaPoWriMo while also revisiting one prompt from the previous year that stuck with me.

Photo by Alois Komenda on Unsplash

If I were to be anything else. 
I would be a raindrop.
I would fall into the tear stained eye
of one up to their neck in grief. 
Their vision straight ahead, 
needling into nothing
but a void of what ifs, 
what shoulds, and most dangerously 
what oughts. Their mind spinning 
a film reel of misery spawn 
so fast their hair would catch on fire. 
The initial impact of myself
against them will light a spark 
that will connect us. A wildfire 
laying a foundation of ashes 
for a flock of brilliant phoenixes
to rise and clear the storming skies 
and make way for shooting stars.
A shared link of experiences 
that just click perfectly 
like a lock that's been missing
the only key it was made for. 
Grief has always been 
an unmovable object 
that's baked into the inevitability
of that one final breath.
The human spirit will always be 
the unstoppable force
driven by our tenacity. 
A perpetual hunger 
to answer: how far can we go 
before our light begins to flicker? 
Us against grief. 
I think I'll bet on us.

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