![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/a27d24_a9fee755e60344889a505e6f3c29c6c1~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_190,h_177,al_c,q_80,blur_3,enc_auto/a27d24_a9fee755e60344889a505e6f3c29c6c1~mv2.jpg)
Seeing myself put in a grave--
being alone under the ground,
dark, no sound, no music loud,
I remembered a poem by Mary Frye
“Do not stand at my grave and weep
I’m not there, I do not sleep”
I believed her, till everyone left
and I felt needing them standing at my grave—
weeping, telling me you’re not alone
or how they missed me in their mourn—
Even my Facebook, twitter friends
No, even my enemies, I needed them.
Horrible not to be awaken again
No lunch, or dinner with crunchy bread,
No others, not another, none of US,
No spring, fall or season of fuss,
Not morning, drinking coffee, getting apart,
Feeling tired in mind and also in heart,
No sky, no star, not even half of the moon,
It was dark, deep dark even at noon,
No dawn, no dusk, no ending time,
No illness, not getting cured in a shrine;
But worse than all,
No passion to write a poem about!
Courtesy of Google pictures
Foroz, M. (2017). Inside Out: A Collection of English Poems. Olympia Publishers: London.
Oh, I never meant that, Jackie:)
Thanks for reading it.
Made me shiver
Martin, this poem is extremely compelling, describing what seems like an "out of body" experience as you face a disheartening reality yet to occur. This poem takes our mind to many places, and reminds us of the multiple perspectives on death, a natural inevitability.