Burial rites (poem)

By: j. bradley
silence is the only way
to eradicate personal pronouns
as meteoric 'i's shower across stages
and pages, while various atmospheres
devour them to the point where
their impact is reduced to pebble size.
i want
i need
i have to
i bleed
i did this to you and me
i can't
i…
across the room, printed poems
lie corpse still, littering the space,
waiting for red pencils and ink to grace
each line, ridding the unneeded text
until stanzas become knuckled
so when they are read, minds learn to buckle
under intense metaphor, covering up the meaning
the way criminals try to hide the crime
to avoid doing time. raw emotion refined
to the point where the poem feels antiseptic,
offering communion to those who pick it up
and read it.
i want
i need
i have to
i bleed
i can't
i…
there are elegies that come naturally
as reality sculpts muses of tragedy
to fuel their inspiration. don't canonize
the subject. treat them tenderly, honestly,
brutally on some of the parts, but always remember
to honor the dead. no one ever speaks ill of the dead
because they aren't around to provide
a witty comeback of some sort. autumn is a nice setting
even if they died in the summer. things die beautifully
in autumn wind. things are already dead
in winter.
i want
i need
i can't
i…
silence is sometimes the only way
to explain things that seem
never meant to be. murmured voices
curving the air into lingering question marks,
while pallbearers process coffins to final viewing places,
while the faces of the audience read the surroundings.
eyes scan the room, buying the lie that dying
means saying goodbye
because souls don't shimmy from shells
and say Hello and thank you to everyone
for attending these last moments together.
i want
i need
i…
it's selfish to interject yourself
into an elegy. sometimes, you have to
to truly relate to the person you write about
so each stanza and line has scoured your veins
to where they will properly honor the remains
that lie in front.
there is no 'i' when you say goodbye
because death is not an exit,
only an entrance into something bigger
than ourselves.
Category:Death