Days of the Dead

For my inaugural post for NaBloPoMo, and in recognition of today being both All Saints’ and the second day of Dia de Muertos, I present a prose poem written the other day while thinking on the subject of death and the afterlife.

Sometimes my mind wanders to thoughts of the other side.

Is it there?

Is it all that people say?

Gazing outside the window, I wonder:
What could be more beautiful
than turned leaves,
clouds,
trees of green?

Will it feel as nice as
sun-warmed skin on an autumn day;
spring breezes fluttering
through lively dancing leaves;
warm bath water on chilled skin?

Will it taste as good as
freshly brewed coffee?
Chocolate?
Or vanilla ice cream?

Is there rock ‘n roll up there?
Do they have no cause for the blues?
Will there be colors?
Or only bright and blinding light?

Will I even know I’m there?

Or will I no longer be me at all –
just part of the One?

Perhaps time is better spent
being here,
being now.

Even for the briefest time;
our lives mere moments
caught like dust in the sun,
seen for a second –
you blink.
And you’re gone.

Enjoy the flight.
Enjoy the sights.
Too soon, it will be done.

+ K +