Corpse

“Corpse”

What have I to say or fear?
The loneliness of tomorrow
Sounds like Heaven:
The silence I dare not face
Must feel so lovely.

Untouched by sorrow
As I stare at the tomb.
I can’t remember who lies there.
Surely, they must have been beautiful—
Never have I seen a grave half so fair.

“Let’s become snow,”
I whisper to the sleeper.
“We shall freeze the flowers,
And the bluebirds shall sing
Over a blossomless bed.”
But I heard no answer
From the jeweled dead.

The sky is wilting amid the leaves.
What have we to fear?
The loneliness that is to come
Shall repulse the spirits of Once Upon a Time—
The memories when laughter unfolded of old.
Or do I remember nothing?
The memory is clear. But is it mine?
Whose mind do I share?
Yesterday is a haunted place…
But were we there among those solitary ages?
I seem to remember nothingness of what came before,
And I view the nothingness that is to come.
You know of it well, dear corpse,
And you speak nothing of what it is.
I fear I have lost the spaces between then,
And what will not be.
And when I ask of you what will come
You do not answer me.    

“Let us become sunlight”
I say to the sleeper.
We shall bring the flowers to bloom,
And the butterflies shall sing over the roses.
But no answer rises from the tomb.

© 2022 Marten Hoyle