THE AFTERLIFE
A poem by Yuri Kageyama Feb. 23, 2022
The mass of meat
In a heap like a grave,
Cold, still
Amid wafting incense,
The moans and chants of mourning,
Eyes closed, hands clasped
Frozen in motion,
I lose interest:
Those motions of burial and propriety,
Those greetings, sympathy, tears;
He is no longer there,
Not in that body,
Twitching twisting growling in incoherence,
More and more silent
Over the years,
He is no longer there:
At last,
He is gone