By BoJenn
The Breeze Between Doors
By BoJenn
When it’s time
to shed this skin,
step into the unknown
of a fading memory—
I see a friend
become color and hum,
no longer body,
but frequency.
Tomorrow won’t echo
the lively today.
Sisters, now women,
wear time in their faces—
soft wrinkles ‘round eyes,
truth lines on their necks,
the kind only laughter
and living can leave.
The body slows,
no longer swift—
no longer one stream,
one breath, one shift.
Five times a night,
I walk the path,
the floor remembers
each quiet step,
to and from
what was once
so simple.
And she,
my friend,
is glowing now—
fading into light
before my eyes.
No final words,
just gentle change.
And I wonder:
When does mine begin?
The front door opened
seventy-two years ago—
a loud hello
into the world.
Now,
the back door sways,
caught in the breeze,
making up its mind—
not yet,
not now…
but soon.
My art
My Near Death Experience Arts and Thoughts 