LESSONS AT A FUNERAL

It lay there

Cold, numb and decaying

All outlets of the body

Jammed with white softness.

Aside, the incense stick

Emanated unbroken shapes

Of an idealistic mirage.

To cover up the filth

That death had spilled

All about that humble room.

With smothered sobs

As a perpetual background score

The body lay there

Unaffected, and

Almost unfettered

But the man was gone,

The spirit had bailed,

Leaving behind only

Eighty-seven kilograms

Of societal weight.

The spouse had wept,

The son was sombre

And neighbours crept

In lieu of that November

Men that never knew

The body that lay beneath

Had so much love to offer

Suddenly, and admiration

For the deceased.

They decked it up

In godly shades

And made out of it

A most gaudy affair

New clothes, and fragrance,

So much for deliverance

I know I’ll miss the spirit anyway;

A body that was burnt that day

For time truly kills no one

It simply differentiates

Between white-haired reality

And our lusty, youthful parades.

-K.G.