JPM (May 7,1984 / Rosario, La Union, Philippines)

Death Poem No.1 (I Tried)

I write, as if for the first time I learned to write.

There is heaviness

In the hand that carries the pen.

I start with the word DEATH

But I do not continue…



I just let my thoughts roam...

to the first time I saw Sunshine in the coffin...

and how her eyes are shut in eternity...

and how she must have hated to leave...but she had to...



to the time I heard the wails of a grieving aunt...

and how it sounded terribly sincere...

and how it won't bring back my uncle alive...just his memories perhaps...



to the time...the scented candles seem like a choir...

their burning flames swaying from side to side with the wind...

as a choir would, swaying to the rhythm of a farewell song...



to the second time I saw Sunshine in the coffin...

and how the stitches that accompany her face

ruined the look of serenity that should accompany death....



I could only tell stories of funerals I've been to, I realized.

Death, is only as real...

As what I see...and hear...and smell perhaps...

But not what I feel.



DEATH isn’t…not just yet.

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Comments (1)

Poem has that solomn feeling to it