Names
I'm going to be one of them someday. Maybe today.
Oh be quiet you're just paranoid, he said.
Names and dates. That's all. Something rotting beneath and I wondered how many of these people are actually buried here. How many were lost at sea? How many are buried here and not marked at all? And I imagined what it would be like to not have a face and to have water slowly fill me until my soul was diluted and I could no longer remain in this world.
But I knew that someday I was going to be one of them. And I wondered how but knew that nothing would ever answer that question for me. Names and dates. Even if I knew when, I would never know how.
Did she die trying to save her family from a fire? Was he crushed by a plow? No answer.
You're morbid, he said.
But I smile a curled half-smile because I know I'm right. I know that we'll both be here someday. And his striped hat will mean nothing and my pearls will be around someone else's neck and they'll wonder how we ended up here, but they won't know. I won't tell. Only names and dates.
I'm going to be one of them someday and I wonder how soon that will be.
Those are dangerous thoughts, he said.
Dangerous? I wonder what dangers brought some of them here. Was he beaten to death in an alley for the way he held his wallet? Was she murdered by steel, wolf-eyed men because she tried to reject their advances and maybe that was something that wasn't done in that part of town and she wasn't told and they didn't care?
I listen and I open my ears to hear their stories but they are coy and they whisper on the wind, I can tell but it's nothing audible. Names and dates. Names and dates.
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Okay. A third post in, like, three hours.
Love,
Kalinka.
4 comments:
Wow, this one's deep. I don't think anything I can post could really do it justice. Death isn't exactly my favourite of subjects. You and Jesse seem much better at writing about it than I.
I just can't seem to deal with death normally, I've been to funerals and I see that everyone is crying because their loved one is gone. But I can't seem to react the same way. I've even caught myself thinking in the back of my mind that the dear departed was just faking it. Almost disgusting I know.
Perhaps I led a more sheltered life than I realize, perhaps I'm really detached, or perhaps I'm just optimistic that whatever's waiting for us after death is something to look forward to.
Whatever it is that makes me feel this way, this I know for sure. I'm not ready to suffle off this mortal coil just yet. There's too much I want to experience here before I can bring myself to see what's waiting for me. And when my time inevitably comes, I really hope I'm really to accept it.
Ill, but not deathly so,
Marr Vell
ready*
Of course your perspective on death is not disgusting. It may be rather morbid, but morbidity makes the world interesting, really. I think you just don't react to death in the traditional way because you always position yourself as the observer in a situation. You're not a sociopath and you do grasp reality - you just spent time focussed on watching the people around you to learn things from them and, perhaps now, you're feeling guilty because you're moving into a situation where you're finally ready to apply what you learned?
You commented on my work, I comment on *you*.
Doesn't take it personal,
Kalinka Blue.
great more deth. Sorry Kal about last coment I sorta lost all controle I let my emotions run my sistem and I just about trashed all your work. I'm not going to lie and say I enjoyed it because of the emotions it brought up but it was interseting as for marr I cryed twice about my uncals deth and am curntly wrighing about a girl who goes to her ganadads funeral and everyone is fakeing that they liked him so jion the club we had t shirts and tinfiol.
A rather interseted person
Kylaia
P.S.
Kal when I was little I found out head stones arnt just names and dates their as much as a person who lays underthem crap another poem comeng on! Dam it! I must wright!
*throws smoke bome used in phantom and dissapears*
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