The Freezer Room (1)

 



Maybe God is a coroner,
 a civil servant,
souls are but paperwork,

 identities are stored in refrigeration vaults.


 God is not a judge.
 He is not a father.
 He is not even listening.

 He is the one keeping the temperature low,
 the doors shut,
until the rest of us catch up.

 We are not done grieving,
 I do not want a miracle,
I want you to wait for me after I lose you.
I would wait for you, too.

If I could.

Comments

  1. PinkuApril 23, 2025 at 6:35 PM

    A good coroner cares deeply...and am sure if God were to be one, He would be a damn good one. So never feel you are not cared for now and forever

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Paper Planes

You check the locks on your door. I do the same. You never come to borrow sugar— and I don’t think I’ll bother to offer you any. We watch the same sunrise, and maybe the same sunset, unless we don’t. Because I never see you on the verandah. But I do, in my mind’s eye. I’ve heard the shouts, the screaming. I wished I could help. I wish I could make it my business. The walls are thin here. I send you paper planes sometimes. Do you find them? They ask if you are alright. I hope you’ll send one back soon.
Read more

Saturday School

Time is a child. The day starts young Then dies with you slowly, with each blink. Wakes up again the next day— Rosy-cheeked, Golden-eyed. The tender fingers of dawn toy with the clouds, break them, reach out, grow stronger, and strangle the sun at the end of the set twenty-four hours of time. (A day.) Sunsets are deaths (graceful ones). Sunrise is a birth (quieter than they should be. Possibly of the unwanted child).
Read more