I will not mourn. I
will not grieve. Let sadness step aside
and find another friend. I will dance and laugh and thumb my nose at loss and
pain. Grey cannot cling to me. I wear no
shawls. Shake off the weight and float in sunshine. Spin Fly. My feet touch ground only to leap and
jump. Graveyards have no magnet. Still cold stones with frozen messages are a
comedy of waste. Burn the plastic flowers and carve the headstones into shapes
of intrigue and motion. Let them speak.
No sitting still with knots at my centre tying me in a room of unbreathable
air. I will lift, purge, open my arms to the expanse of the universe and insist
on joy. Damn the funerals and the rows of black cars in the rain. I am not
saving the little funeral card. I am leaving it in the pew and leaving my grief
behind. I don’t need it. It can remain there tucked in front of the heavy
hymnal. The songs I will sing will be of promise, laughter, devious joy that
bursts from my eyes defiant and blissful. Why not? What good does it do to bow
and cry? I will not. I will dance and breathe and skip in the rain, laugh at
thunder, absorb the sunshine, smell the sea and coconuts and run on the sand.
Fistfuls of jewels will glimmer in my palm as I toss them to the sidewalk. They
bounce. They dance. I will love and abandon sense. Who needs it? The noise will
stop. The pain in my ears will end. I will speak in colours and words will
smell like grape bubblegum. My shoulders will drop. My head will lift. I reach
to take and give in an ever circular hula-hoop.
Make it stop. The
tired drone; the lunatic rage. Such hate eats the beautiful landscape. Gaping
holes left where the future was to be. Dead and limp; wilted – wilted from the
desert fury. Water will wash the burnt dust and morph it to green again.
I will not mourn. I
will not grieve. The peace will make me bold and curious. Adventure is
near. Go then . . .
noiselessly or blazing. I turn and seek . . .
(Written Nov. 21, 2012)