In a world of maybes

Death is certain.

I exfoliate my skin,

Scour the saucepans,

Polish my floor

And fold my finished laundry.

This is certainty.

For when the uncertainty of death

Came knocking at my door,

It took a fragment of who I am.

It opened up pits of fear so deep.

It has turned me into an emotionally

Unhinged thing.

Cleaning and clutching,

At certainties.

Singing soul less songs.