For those who believe in the sunshine of the soul, an acrostic in memorarium

Eternal Sol

Exclamations of sorrow, superficial, perfunctory,
the perfect antithesis of his preferences. He prayed
everyday for a quiet burial, without lie, without
requiem. It wasn't his privilege to exit the way he
nudged into the world, one doorway sidestepped
at a time. He went out in a glorious flurry of flashing
lights in the middle of the night, at a celebration of
someone's silver jubilee. I pumped his chest instead
of his hand, squeezed a blue bag in his face, watched the
light gone out long before we touched him. Touche.

Poetry by Arti
Read 1079 times
Written on 2007-09-10 at 19:44

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how well you write arti... i never know what to say in response lol :) this is so touching, so beautifully put together... thanks :f *hugs* xx