Meet Me On The Death Exchange
Meet me on the Death Exchange,
we’ll make a fair trade.
Mine for yours.
The sum of our lives will be weighed
stacking our deeds like stones.
Yours are lightweight,
smooth and perfect.
No jagged edges
or razor-like ridges
that make the hand bleed
or the heart congeal.
You were born with an enviable lightness of being,
a gossamer spirit
radiating light
that eviscerated the darkness
with a simple smile.
You were not one who was washed ashore,
shipwrecked and alone,
surviving, not living
in an unwelcoming world
with thoughts so heavy
as to pull you under
drowning you.
The shape of our absence will be measured as well.
Yours is a chasm,
wide and deep.
A thousand cries of grief
echo up from the void,
the laments of all who loved you,
a dirge for the lost fullness of your days.
It is not an infinitesimal pinprick
in the tapestry of existence,
an unnoticed song of empty days
and emptier nights,
an insignificant story that vanishes unseen
as if it never was.
So meet me on the Death Exchange,
we’ll make a fair trade.
Mine for yours.


This poem really grips you. The metaphor of the "Death Exchange" as a place for a fair trade of grief and memory is haunting - especially the contrast between the lightness of another's existence and the weight of one's own experience. The closing lines about the "shape of absence" linger long after reading. Thank you for these words, Susan.
This is truly beautiful. Thank you for your words!