Here’s where you’ll stand at the head and at the feet. Your cheeks will be wet, keep nothing in reserve. Have your song, a simple descent where the last note catches and breaks. And poetry, a few lines will do — how the world’s reduced, lessens the light, the sea’s brilliance blown down (though never say ‘I’ instead become the tears and the breath and the breath). Practice hands in the dirt then fist at the sky (that ancient glyph) at He who takes again and again.
Untie your hair, your scarf, your shirt. Take censure and stones on your head and on your feet. Your scars (those you inherit and those you bring) are a mirror to the world blazing the last of the light.
Sweep past supermarket bouquets and easy condolence, bruise hands that would help but restrain again and again.
Ready roar for a requiem to rouse the indifferent dead and for those who’ve gone ahead prepare however you can to be overwhelmed and to overwhelm —
and (for all of us) balance the remains and the remains.
Image: Mourner, suspected to represent Isis mourning Osiris. 18th dynasty, 1550 – 1295 BC. Terra cotta a small statuette thought to be Osiris, public domain c/- Wikimedia Commons. A reworked piece from last year.
And here’s Gabriel Faure’s totally uplifting Requiem Op. 48