Glowing

I’ve been told many myths
about death.

My grandfather
explained to me once
that when children die,
they become fireflies,
that their small bodies scatter into happy
photons and visit the earth at dawn,

and that death will ask me first,
and if I want to keep going, I can simply
say no.

I said no yesterday, when I shook
off the thought, and let go
of the 14 pills in my palm.
When I got up and flushed the invasive
flashbacks down the drain.

I said no, and remembered his words:
“You can be a glow in the dark,

when alive too”.