The Funeral Pyre/ a new poem

After it’s over

What will we see, what will we be?

Everyone’s dying to know

The dead presumably do.

So much in life is meaningless,

A marking of time,

Keeping body and soul together,

Literally.

There has to be more, we say.

Whenever a friend dies I think

(among other things),

Now you know-

But do they?

The near dead say there is a light

At the end of the tunnel

Not realizing it is simply

Someone leaving the light on for them

On their way home.

Published by

thome2040

I'm a librarian living near NYC, have had several poems and stories, as well nonfiction published in various ezines. I've finally broken through in print as my novel "Where Do the Children Play?" a story based on true events concerning the kidnapping and drowning of a young boy, was published by Black Rose Writing last October. They are also publishing my second novel, "In Elysian Fields," a love story between a baseball player and a poet, due out July 4 of this year.

3 thoughts on “The Funeral Pyre/ a new poem”

  1. Tom,
    I really like this. It’s interesting to me how our life view develops/evolves over time.
    I find this time of year (fall) especially thought provoking as the leaves and the fields die off, the weather gets moody and colder. I know winter is coming, but I’m also preparing for next spring.
    All the best to you.
    Tom

    Like

    1. Hi Tom, thanks, this means a lot to me. It’s sort of a riff on Robert Frost’s line “Home is where when you go there, they have to let you in.” I hope you and yours are doing well.

      Like

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