Who cares about the dead
Except for what they’ve left
A stain on the mind of the grieving
A sentimental color
That fades with time and weather
Hardly noticeable as we continue living
The phone is disconnected
No forwarding address
And their closet goes to goodwill or the trash
Their laughter gets forgotten
Their stories become rotten
And their memories are like faded photographs
Their faces lose their names
Their lives become the same
As the billions of others who passed away before
A droplet in the ocean
A grain upon a beach
A letter in a book not read anymore
Who cares about the dead but death
The living are preoccupied
With finding heaven here on earth
Before it’s their turn to die
e.12.17.2016
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