The strangest thing about being dead
Is hearing what other people say about you.

I was robbed of Life
Or rather
Death and I became friends
In a time of life when that doesn't usually happen.
Yet.

Hiking led to falling led to
Broken bones and whispers
Of whose fault it was that one time
My sister and I made my mother cry.

A pain, a panicked sickening,
And then a peace. It was done.

I wandered through the shadows
Just listening.

People spoke of the accident.
Of the cause. I could no longer
Join the discussion.

Strangers who listened to news reports
Discussed my fate without batting an eye.
Secretly thinking
This will never happen to me.

Of course not, because these things always happen
To someone else.