How to Console the Dead?
How to Console the Dead?
by Beth Langford
To those looking for the calm of heaven
I give a smile: forced, angelic
and to those awaiting the fires of hell,
the same – canines flashing.
Those who expect nothing
are pleasantly surprised
having forgotten our last visit.
I go through the motions.
“Yes, it’s been awhile.
Last time I saw you
you weren’t yet born;
my, how you’ve grown.”
But some grasp and tear their hair.
A loss builds in them. Please, they wail,
I want to go home.
“Where’s home?” I inquire politely
though they never find an answer.
Others come to me relieved:
at last, forgiveness.
“Is that so?” I scratch my head.
“What for?” Always silence.