Layers [√]

[ he who visits again ]

the house whispers of death
for it has come again knocking
on our wooden, broken porch

the planks creak under its weight,
heaviness flows through silence
tendrils of ghostly fingers
pushing the door wide open
knock knock who's there?

i stand on the balcony like a stranger,
eyes slated and glazed over, bored,
watching as they pray over the corpse
of someone who who was not welcomed
in the land of the living, ah hypocrites!

they ask me why i remain unbothered
and i answer their question with a look
that says at least i'm being honest about it

my relatives spit at me with disdain,
for my disrespect was as blatant as the
idea of pretending to care for the departed,
i turn away and slink back to my room
where i offer a humble prayer to my God
to bless her soul with mercy for she was wicked

the house once again becomes restless
as death covers the roof with its mourning

the only thing we have in common is our indifference to the concept of dying