What would the dead write of us, if they could still pen a poem? What would they tell us, if they could offer advice after death? Why do we view death, or ghosts, as “scary”? Wouldn’t our ancestors wish us well, assuming they did so during life? And even if they didn’t, surely now they would be free to pursue other interests rather than sticking around to make our lives miserable.
Encomium to the Living
After RG Evans
From six feet under, we salute you, you who tread the ground above, toes wet with dew behind a mausoleum, there to steal a kiss. Such “crimes” we happily conceal. Perhaps you sense us stirring underfoot – don’t be afraid. It is our joy to put aside despairing sighs of death to hear your sighs of pleasure, life, and love so near. Now rest against our gray and lichened stones wrapped tight in one another’s muscled bones. Regale us with adventures that you’ve planned to sing us back to sleep, here in the sand. Remember us, now tucked within a shroud— we long to hear you live your lives out loud.
Oh, I love this one! Really beautiful. (I also love the idea of the dead being free to pursue other interests!)
https://nydamprintsblackandwhite.blogspot.com
Thank you, Anne!