Poems

The funeral

First, to begin, I'm dead. To be specific, I died three days ago.

I'm in a church now, the priest says some prayers for me and everyone repeats.

I got to admit, this coffin is comfortable, I think it has silk on the inside.

After some time, everyone finishes praying and I'm carried outside the church.

This couldn't be better, could it?

I hear water falling on my wodden coffin, so I assume it is raining.

I can not see, but I imagine the grey sky, the dark clouds hovering over the people here and the milions of rain drops falling on the ground.

I never liked rain. It made everything look sad. And maybe it is... Maybe my funeral is sad.

All the people in the church must have come to mourn beside my grave.

My family and all the people I knew were probably here.

But I do not understand. Why would you come to see a person you loved dead?

Won't you be sad? Won't you suffer? I'd rather think about something else, not about a person I loved being dead. 

Because I'd know how much they meant to me, I wouldn't like to see them gone.

I hear the shovels digging into the muddy ground making a pit for my coffin.

In the distance I can hear some muffled crying sounds, was it my family?

Did they love me that much to be crying that hard because of my tragic death?

To be honest, even I can't believe I'm gone. I shall miss me too.

This day will remind everyone of my death, causing them suffering and awful pain.

Rain drops falling from the sky upon their faces blending with their tears, screams in the distance could be heard, covering the entire place, pain and tension vibrating in the air and people mourning. Mourning over my death.

I shall remember my death the same. Because, in this moment, their pain is my pain.

As I am placed in my resting place, my life flashing before my eyes, silence enveloping me, I can not feel anything anymore. No pain, no hapiness, no fear, no anger, nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So here, in this infinite abyss where no one will ever look down at me, I shall become friends with the darkness, the only one who will keep me company.

And on my stone plate, my name should be written, my death date, my birth date and so on, because this things were a part of me. And if ever someone will remember I lived, because I no  longer can talk to them, they will know me a little.

Sometimes it's hard to face reality, but now it's harder than ever.

And with that I shall say my last goodbye.