“HAPPY FUNERAL.” (Song – a sort of “Happy Birthday”)
It may seem strange for something that’s so sad,
in the circumstances, acting so cool.
But we’re respecting you, and that ain’t bad.
Here to say goodbye. Happy Funeral.
We’ll think of you and celebrate your life,
‘though consider the taking of you cruel.
If living’s cake, yours’ was a mighty slice.
Thanks for what you gave. Happy Funeral.
Not a birthday with those sort of wishes,
or wedding, or occasions multiple,
where joyful, celebratory speeches.
But you’ve been just great. Happy Funeral.
In our memory, you’ll stay integral.
Your end of it all. Happy Funeral.
Coping with inevitability.
Placed, in time, at the awful happening.
With unreasoning sensitivity,
would cry at the loss of everything.
Loss of loved one in this category.
Sentenced to carry on alone whilst lost.
That one of us goes first, mandatory.
But it is at an unbearable cost.
Shaking my fist at its proximity.
Hitting one’s head on the wall. That upset
at the condition, merits sympathy.
It’s as devastating as it can get.
Endure then accept, inevitably.
Not be with the grief interminably.
Goodbye and thank you. Thanks for your presence.
Farewell and god bless. Thanks for being there.
Yours, I can say, a rare intelligence.
Your going, almost to awful to bear.
Goodbye and thank you. Great to have known you.
Farewell and god bless. You enhanced my life.
So many memories I can recall.
Through troubles, with you ev’rything alright.
What I want to say. Thank you and Goodbye.
I say it to you. God bless and Farewell.
Thinking of you gone, will mean a sad sigh.
And emotions much more than I can tell.
I have been lucky. Lucky to know you.
Just saddened that the time spent with you, flew.
Over the backyard wall comes that devil,
to claim a soul and carry it away.
Then across the ground, mostly unlevel,
his passage, without intention to stay.
Camouflaged in the darkness of the night,
Stealthily approaches destination.
Back to the shadows when the light goes bright.
Torch, unnecessary information.
Role; to convert a person to nothing;
Empty shell leaving behind for decay.
Extraction of the spirit is his thing;
To secure from the failed without delay.
Gothic imagining, seeing ahead.
Trick of being taken from body dead.
So many poor souls have all died alone.
We too could have similar sad endings.
Friendless, perhaps comfortless, on our own.
Who we’re with, if anyone, depending.
It’s fate, if there’s someone there to hold hand.
A person who you like and likes you too.
Priceless presence, care that you understand.
So precious, fond farewell that’s right for you.
But a strong possibility, alone.
Then, no memory would be a blessing.
Won’t comprehend. What’s that when it’s at home?
Well before then was time for confessing.
Just a person whose life deeds have been sown.
It’s chance, to go acknowledged or alone.
Practically inconceivable too.
To be named as such, not comparable
with the death of others but remains true.
Cause denoted on the certificate.
With reasonableness, explained away.
Those who want to, can then pontificate.
Inevitably happens anyway.
I, for one, not be participating
That is what I am anticipating.
Unless someone’s been impersonating.
Delusion, though, as passed hesitating.
I’ll be elsewhere, unimaginably.
What killed by, will be referring to me.
MOMENT OF DEATH.
It’s coming surely as night follows day.
Experience, to end all, on its way.
Simply put, I’ll not be allowed to stay.
What happens happens. The fears to allay.
Flat out, gasping, awaiting conscious loss.
All but my face, perhaps, covered with cloth.
Last breath, last thought, slip into sleep; life lost.
Hard, immovable bone, as look goes soft.
The moment deemed to be unfortunate.
Consequence oft thought disproportionate.
At certain point, process will culminate.
Date and time no more indeterminate.
Position, then, of helplessness, utter,
Concluded with a final heart flutter.
Feels like nothing I can do about it.
Every day and night just comes and goes.
Seeds of my destruction incubated.
So much so, am, now and then, comatose.
Takes its toll, the second hand going round.
Still keep my disparate parts together.
No purpose for it, is there to be found,
save being saved for this strange endeavor.
Yet it is relentless in its slow way.
And I age imperceptibly, really,
as each moment I’ve known passes away.
The cost of my life to be paid dearly.
What to do is absolutely absent.
Interspersed, till the end, with each event.
THE HUMAN CONDITION.
Reflection on the human condition.
Obviously, not always in control.
Serious gaps filled with superstition.
Sometimes bad fortune, some good, on a roll.
At core is a vulnerability.
Knowledge of one’s own death, which can’t alter.
To one side with intense activity,
but even a mindful life will falter.
It’s physical in the end. Flourishing
and fading. Going, stopping. Thoughts, then none.
Life is, and it isn’t, encouraging.
When one’s time is up, there’s no extension.
But what a gift, here with these faculties.
Enjoy living, yet, not fully at ease.