fine day for a Funeral

Dearest, if you’re reading this
I may be already dead
My wrists are already red
The fish are already fed

“Hope is but a waking dream”
That’s what Aristotle said
Or why I’m waking up in dread
And my forward feels like lead

It’s a fine day for a funeral
Be careful where you tread
Trust is all in your head
So do just as Papa said

Dearest, if you think this dim
By layers, you’ve been misled
That is not what I just said
Start all over, hope instead

Are you hungry?
Live like you’re fed
Have no money?
May God imbed
All alone?
Then thee I wed
Share your bread
Slide your sled
Make your bed
Lead or led
Like Papa said

Beloved, if you care enough
You’ll read between the red
It’s a fine day for a funeral
But then I’m not really dead.

fine day for a Funeralkenn
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5 comments on "fine day for a Funeral"

  1. Kill the past and live for the future.

  2. melancholy hope

  3. A death worth dying for…

  4. nice write.
    seasons change, leaves on the trees die, and they are birthed again. much more lively, full of color and beauty. and guess what? the season changes again and so do the leaves on the trees that we adored to see.

    hmmm… don’t know if that made sense, but that’s what went through my head after reading this.

    thanks for the inspiration

  5. That was the very first time that I commented on your blog, OMG, you have no idea how scared I was.
    When you first told me about ‘melancholy hope’, I didn’t really get it…until reading this piece, then it was like instant understanding and knowing. And I’m not kidding, I probably hadn’t thought about that term for a couple of years and earlier this week I was thinking about it, I can’t even remember what triggered the remembrance…you really are just such a great writer, your words are like a thunderbolt to the heart.

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