Here’s a poem I wrote for the Day of the Dead (Dia de los Muertos)

“Dance with La Catrina”

I danced with death and did not know her.
And the  out of tune violin
Played on through the night
To a song that had no end.
As we danced, I wondered,
When would the music end?
She answered, “This dance will last
Until you fall like other dying men.”

Death had soft hands and a pretty face,
Not like I might have feared.
Her eyes looked deep inside my heart,
And she shed a single tear.
A warm embrace she gave me,
And the world began to spin,
My fingers slipped from her hands,
The fate of dying men.

Each must stand to play a part
In an endless symphony,
And dance to increasing tempo
With the ghosts of one’s destiny.
Look closely at the one you hold,
The hands, the eyes, and face,
The face of a lover,  a friend or a God,
That will take you from this place.

—Rickey Pittman