I was(by now)
not only dead
but decomposing
composed only
of my death & the silences
of memory.
Leaves I would have
delighted in(in Life)
fall & cover me
tenderly...protectively
unafraid of who
I am now
unafraid of who
I am not...n ow.
Somewhere...some part
of who I used to be
refuses
to accept this death
& continues
(despite itslelf)
to exist
(write this)
notice that
it is
a cold Autumnal wind
...this the existence of
non-existence
and that I can think
without thinking
or at least until
the loving couple's
dog unthinkingly
digs me up
her screams tearing the bloody
sunset to shred
uncovers
my lack of being
and that
now
only now
can I afford
to die
& taste(at last)
forever...the quiteness.
*******
My friend had a young daughter who was murdered...being hacked to death in a fury. She used to dream of her dead daughter wanting her death to be known and that then and only then could she agree to be dead.
Doral Deepset
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/forever-the-quietness/
