Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Poem for the Unknown Dead

The man in black,
proudly took us, for a tour
in the back of the funeral home,
where the dead await
his final touch.

Not a sound,
only the persistent smell
of embalming chemicals,
and the cold, stainless steel
of the mortuary table.

In passing,
I noticed a smaller room,
with clothes, scattered on a shelf.
T'was so quick, I couldn't tell
if they belonged to man or woman.

Along with the clothes,
a brown plastic grocery bag.
filled with things,
and tied in a knot.
So ordinary, it got to me.

An empty bed,
white bottom sheet,
and a rectangular container,
long enough for a human body,
closed, that's all I saw.

So, this is how it ends,
I thought,
and cried, tears of sorrow,
for the unknown dead,
inside the grey box.

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