when death came by...some afterthoughts.

It's quiet here now all that was untidy is boxed up, and buried soon poppies will bloom where his blood washed into my soil, and grass they come up every year with bright red heads near where John's fell I shake my own head at this symbolism ~ but life creeps onward I can spring back on Sunday kind words were rendered tears shed, hugs squeezed a funeral without the fun- that graces it's first 3 letters I can taste things again without a cooper taint or a smell of mortality ~ the street is back to its normal flow cars slow a bit at the cross that marks the passing of one man that will not pass by anymore one less smile as I grab the morning paper a Mister Rogers neighborhood transformed in an instant to a scenario of death excuse me while I don a sweater the chill still lingers ~ the daffodils have opened their sleepy heads their trumpets blow taps I am numb but feelings are not vacant and soon this too will pass ~ life restores the rips that tear the fabric of our souls it knits them quickly in bright colors to distract us I like the quiet here my dog snores and birds chirp and I will not think anymore of the silent flesh pressed in satin in a place with no sound ~ when the quiet shatters its pieces can scar you forever. when the quiet resumes the scars tend to fade into the hazy past. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Artis Written April 5th, 2002 © on Apr 05 2002 02:11 AM PST   18 • 0 • 1