At Peace With Death

by Elizabeth McGinn on April 15, 2021


field of wheat
photo courtesy of

by Anna Pomeroy ’23

I understand why old people are so content with death.

Our bones don’t grow brittle from their long-lasting bends––

But their existence becomes the unstable foundation for 

the external skin that takes the beating of life. 

It’s hard, life. 

I mean, we’re meant to make it––

Strong enough.

But there comes a time when our eyes have no tears left to shed, 

And no band aid could ever cover the infinite bleeding wound our heart has become.

We accept this.

Because while we may not wake up one morning, 

The birds will.

The sun will still shine, 

And the grass will grow into the next season.