my funeral
x. my funeral
estefaaano_writes
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i see the slow train coming
over the grumpy hill's shoulder.
black as a burned bible.
rusty iron wheels eating distance,
scores my last breath and silence.
though still far, already shaking
the earth beneath where i lie.
the wheel-turn is a heartbeat.
the heartbeat is a nail to my wooden wanting.
station light flares holy in dusk,
painting my beautiful funeral.
across the tracks,
beguiling and necessary.
a grave-dirt ceremony,
a blood-price paid,
for a life that weathered through.
faithful as a dog
to its own extinction.
lonesome when you went.
lonesome these long years under sky,
learning words of stones.
silence becomes a friend.
my bones will wait by the river,
moon blessing them a gentle white.
crows will circle with their hymnals,
returning me to earth before spring.
scatter what remains...
through fields where i once walked alone,
where i once learned that
lonesome doesn't mean unloved,
for love lives quiet in the bones.
my lonesome grave is my earned peace.
i lived soft,
loved when i could,
let go when i had to,
made friends with emptiness
till it wasn't empty anymore.
the earth tastes honest, gentle even.
when the train finally arrives,
and carries me into that country
where the lonesome sleep without aching,
where rest is just rest,
and the heart,
at last,
goes home.
"If a man alone is not a grave, then what is he?"
ReplyDeleteI've been chewing on that question since you posted the teaser. After reading the collection, I realized he's a land waiting to be filled. This work changed how I look at my own loneliness. 🥃
"Black as a burned bible." That might be the most powerful opening line of the whole collection.
ReplyDeleteChills!!!!!
Lonesome doesn't mean unloved. I’m carrying that with me.
ReplyDeleteThe perfect ending to a perfect collection
ReplyDeleteCheers to the lonely hearted! 🥂
ReplyDeleteFaithful as a dog to its own extinction.’ This is a gut-punch. The sheer loyalty of living.
ReplyDeleteThe river eyes from poem iv make a comeback here—'my bones will wait by the river.'
ReplyDeleteThe continuity is amazing.
Blood-price paid, for a life that weathered through.
ReplyDeleteI love that the emptiness 'wasn't empty anymore' once you made friends with it. That’s the key to survival.
ReplyDeleteThis feels like a benediction. A quiet 'amen' to two years of incredible writing.
ReplyDeletePaints my beautiful funeral.’ You’ve made death look like art here, Estefaaano. It’s stunning.
ReplyDelete"the heart, at last, goes home."
ReplyDeleteFaithful as a dog. 🐕🖤
ReplyDeleteThank you for these two years, estefaaano_writes.
ReplyDeleteLonesome doesn't mean unloved. I’m carrying that with me.
ReplyDeleteThis feels like a benediction. A quiet 'amen' to two years of incredible writing.
ReplyDelete(Learning the language of stones.)
ReplyDeleteI love the idea of silence being something you have to study to understand.