I have never been to a funeral before, but I have seen people lose the ones they love.
Then some of them stay numb
And some others die as well. They gradually fade away, losing their life to the dead, to be dead in a few years.
This is the worst kind of death. To throw yourself in a casket and give up while the sun still shines on you.
I have never been to a funeral but I know for certain many dead men.
They sometimes laugh
They get lost in thought
They are dead, their casket a burden on their shoulders which they pull along with each step.
They have given up, you just don’t know it, you are their yardstick for their unachievable life of success. Yes you.
When you sit with them and when you pour them a drink do you not see death in their eyes?
Do you not hear the voices of your ancestors speak back?
When your lace your speech with flamboyance and color them with your laughter do you not hear a laughter too familiar, unfamiliar, distant, yearning begging to be something, someone in a world that is everything; demanding, judgmental, antagonistic, hateful, sad, depressing, ever failing.
Suicide lays naked at your door
Her grave neatly dug
Her laughter so familiar it’s a curse Yet
Your love so strong it’s her loss
Take a second look at the ones you love.