It Is On This Day

It is on this day

I mourn my friend

I look from the road

At a corpse in a box

Underneath a green tent.

I find it hard to believe

How we play with the dead.

A corpse is buried today.

It is on this day I find:

Sadness

Emptiness

Carelessness

Less compassion

Less sympathy

On this day

I find beauty.  

How is it we live our lives?

Do we feel?

Do we attach?

Do we pretend?

Death took my friend:

Mother

Wife

Angel -- She was. She is.

On this day

A funeral took place

And took the spirit of me.

She died --

december first two thousand and fifteen.

12 first 2015

Death has come

but still,

they can't see.

but still,

they pretend.

Still they feel, as if programmed.  

They are standing in black

Underneath a green tent.

Around them are small trees.

In front of them lies the body of a:

Family Member

Friend

Mother

Wife

FACE.

Just beyond teh foreground

There is the water tower.

This is how I will remember

This Town.

I ran from it -- It took a life.

I keep running -- No attachments.  

The sun hits just below the roof of the car.

I don't care what they have to say.

I don't want to pretend today.