I’m not a locksmith, but
what if death wasn\'t laced with the dust
of long-forgotten dreams?
Why is it that death creeps around the corner
like a small sulking child with a bad temper?
Not sure if anybody knows.
I saw death a few weeks ago
when I opened a can of cat food.
It looked fine to me
but then it said I\'d find the key to death
when I saw my next patient.
What a very auspicious occasion,
several keys were lying on the bed next to my patient,
but he was too weak to lift any of them,
so, I helped him lift the third key
and he was dead in five minutes
with a bright smile on his face.
I told his wife I wasn\'t a locksmith,
but she smiled and thanked me anyway.
Death, a sly trickster,
lurking in the mundane,
in the opening of a can,
in the lifting of a key.
It doesn’t come with a grand flourish,
just a whisper,
a suggestion,
a subtle nudge
in the quiet corners of our lives.
What if death was something different,
not a dark shadow,
not a lurking fear,
but a gentle transition,
a passage through a doorway
we all must eventually find.
The patient’s smile, serene,
as if he’d found some hidden truth,
something we all search for
in the chambers of our heart,
in the corners of our mind,
in the spaces between our thoughts.
His wife, her gratitude,
a strange comfort
in the face of finality,
in the acceptance of the inevitable,
the understanding that sometimes
we must help each other
find the keys
to our own release.
What if death was like that?
A moment of clarity,
a fleeting understanding
that there’s more beyond this life,
a step into the unknown,
guided by the keys we find
in our final hours,
in the simplest acts,
in the touch of a hand,
the opening of a door.
I saw death,
and it wasn’t a monster,
wasn’t a terror,
just a quiet presence,
a necessary end,
a new beginning,
waiting patiently
for its turn to be acknowledged,
to be understood,
to be accepted.
Death, a child with a bad temper,
sulking in the shadows,
waiting to be seen,
to be recognized,
to be given its due place
in the tapestry of our lives.
We fear it,
we run from it,
but in the end,
we all must face it,
lift the key,
open the door,
and walk through,
into whatever comes next.
And maybe,
just maybe,
we’ll find a smile waiting for us,
a sense of peace,
a moment of grace,
as we pass from this world
into the next,
leaving behind the dust of dreams,
the fears, the sorrows,
the keys we no longer need.
I’m not a locksmith,
just a wanderer,
a seeker,
a guide in the darkness,
helping others find their way,
lifting the keys,
opening the doors,
and hoping that, in the end,
we all find the smiles we’ve been searching for,
the peace we’ve been longing for,
the understanding that death,
like life,
is just another step,
another journey,
another part of the story
we all must tell.
(c) Richard Gordon Zyne