Some things I could not say at the funeral

He is so not dead.
I know his body is in that box
I know it has probably rotted by now
But I see him everywhere:
I donít know how not to.
In the dirt on the stones,
in the rushes by the river,
in the moving of something.

I see him and donít see him.
Beast and god.
I loved him and hated him.
Desperately needed him.
Could not bare him.
He is so not dead.

Not until Iím dead,
and even after that,
I would still be careful,
if I was you.

Poetry by Andrew Bindon
Read 508 times
Written on 2015-07-02 at 12:13

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
As long as there is memory people do not die. In families and loved ones they live on. This is a very nice piece.

Tell me about it! I know this feeling. Some people never die in our minds.