the question of monsters under the bed

It’s ten o’clock at night
she runs into my room sobbing  
scared of all the monsters  
only a ten-year-old mind can create  
telling me she doesn’t want to die  
 
Says she’d rather go before me  
because she’s scared of what life  
would be without me there  
 
I tell her there is nothing worse  
for a parent than watching their child die  
and she says maybe we can die together  
I tell her no, but she’s not listening  
lost in the labyrinth of mortality musings  
 
She tells me her biggest fear of death  
is that it’ll be boring  
and how it’s not fair that other people  
will be out there having fun and partying  
when she’s long gone and stuck in the ground  
what about all the things  
she will miss out on seeing?  
Like people living on Mars one day  
 
She wants to know if we dream when we’re dead  
and I tell her we do because  
I don't want her to think death is boring  
I want her to think it's the next big adventure  
 
I stay with her as she cries herself to sleep  
telling her she’s not going to die just yet  
there’s plenty of time for adventures and life
 
When she wakes up the next morning  
she tells me she’s not afraid of monsters anymore  
 
© Indie Adams 2016