A Waltz With The Grim Reaper

by Hana S. Elysia

When the reaper finally came to me and said that it was time

I took the hand he offered and walked with him toward the light

but once we reached the doorway to whatever lay beyond

I tugged the reaper’s long black robe and asked to hear a song

“A waltz,” I said, for how I’d always wanted to someday dance

with someone fit to be a prince, who twirled me as we laughed

together on a ballroom floor that gleamed beneath the moon

while with each movement how my gown did swirl like summer blue

“I’m not a prince,” the reaper said, “but surely I can try,”

before he folded up his sleeves and set down his tall scythe

then strummed the air as if it were a wash of hanging beads

to change the scene around us into what I’d only dreamed

Though different than I pictured, I still breathed in at the sight

of an inky ballroom stage lit by a frame of candlelight

a dark gown, too, that shimmered up my body, down my arms

and matched the regal finery the reaper now adorned

One-two-three we started, his gloved hand upon my waist

slowly at first he led me as we figured out our pace

until we found a rhythm and much quicker we did spin

my gown a blooming flower as it whirled and whirled open

This waltz set into motion, violins soon swelled to life

flutes and bells, accordions, a symphony of night

as round the glossy floor we went, reflections clear below

and how the reaper laughed with me like children in the snow

The song continued long for every step and every lift

then ended on a quiet note where gently I was dipped

followed by a curtsy that I gave the darling reaper

to which he bowed and thanked me, too, so eloquent a speaker

My time to go had come now, though depart I didn’t desire

into the door of light that reappeared like arching fire

a path to heaven maybe, bright enough to make me squint

but as I moved to enter, something wrapped around my wrist

“Just one more dance,” the reaper pleaded, tugging on me soft

his hollow-socket eyes staring down at me from his skull

so dance we did as both of us ignored the shining door

and by the reaper’s side I chose to stay forevermore.

🩷🩷🩷

Hana S. Elysia is a professional dancer turned writer with a keen interest in the dark and whimsical. Her writing has appeared in Cleaver Magazine, Confluence, Trembling with Fear, pacificREVIEW, and others. She was named the first-place winner of the Duality Creative Nonfiction contest in Cleaver Magazine, and the 2023 Creative Writing Award in Confluence. More of her work can be found at hanaselysia.substack.com, as well as on Instagram @hana.s.elysia.