The Day Of My First Death Poem by Amanda Saveley

I was nine years old
Dining room wood table,
Polished gleam against the open window
Lace curtain covers
White like my innocence
White lace burial shroud
I was nine years old

Small ivory hand placed in a large hand,
Worn with the troubles of the world
My mother looked at me with tears
Crystal clear in her almond eyes
I did not understand
But her face held the key to mysteries long since gone
Long since passed
Mysteries I would soon unravel for my own
To carry as a burden
Chip on the shoulder
A chip that never should have been

Words said delicately, with care
Fragile words like broken glass
Cutting and scraping at a tiny shielded heart
Cousin, mentor, idol
Carried burden of unraveled mystery
Too heavy to carry
Sought to unload the heavy hold
Failed,
And brought more upon herself

I could not understand
She loved me so, beloved cousin of mine
She had to
We were close, she and I
She, my protector
I, her keeper of adoration eternal
And nothing could separate us
Not even the five years that placed a gap in our age
Except the secret of the unraveled mystery
Long since forgotten
Carried on the shoulders of a fourteen-year-young girl
My cousin
Tiny capsules deliverance of dark mortality
Forced from tiny life
The facts were clear to me
Still,
I did not understand

Could not understand
Love could conquer all, I was told
Belief firmly lodged in mind,
Wrenched from safety and flung into obscurity
Truth blinding like harsh rays of sun
Burning pale skin
Turning dark
Inside out

I died that day in the dining room
With the polished wood table
And white lace curtains
And my mother's almond eyes
And crystal tears
And fragile sharp words
I was nine years old