I hold my breath under water sometimes and i see how long i can stay under water and holding my breath. Not because i want to beat my own best score or I’m even timing the minutes. I do it because a self destructing streak in me wants to see how far i can push me.. when the panic kicks in, when the heart beat quickens, when my body writhes fighting for air. Then I gasp up from the water choking on freshly breathed air. I have no fear of death, some days i welcome it, other days i envy the peace i will one day find in it. I actually love to be around it. I have decided as tomorrow will be a beautiful day and i have uni work to do, that instead of a coffee shop or library …I will go with my books to my favourite place with coffee ………….A graveyard. There are the most beautiful graveyards around here. Some are very old, some beautiful and kind of new, others are unkept and sing with a whistle of decades ago. I know them all, and love them all equally. Tomorrow shall be cathays graveyard, tomorrow i will walk for a while, past Henry Williams and his Wife, Iris. I will tilt my head and sigh, to be buried with your lover in death and to spend a mortal life with them alive is really something i admire. I will walk then further down the the stone with barely etched words and wonder what was their first name. Then come the trees and they give oxygen to the living and shade to the dead. Their roots curling round corpses caskets and keeping them safe. I can’t help but think of stories and rhymes, picture who they were and what their life was. I also think of what will become of me, a casket or a pod that will turn into a tree or will i be burnt and scattered somewhere.
The graveyard will be my retreat for a few hours of soul aching peace. Their is a certain energy in a graveyard …. I think so anyway. I will place down my coffee and choose one of my favourite spots under a tree. Then i will wait for the caretaker who is always fond of me to tell me at quarter to five he’s closing up. Sometimes he lets the gate at the bottom open for me …. and to let myself out when i please. I never leave it later than eight to slip through the gate. Sometimes people just know you need that extra time. Think its the look people can see in your eyes. So many places to hid and mine is a cemetery it calms my soul and mind. And makes me appreciate life.