A Poem for the Departed
Long golden box covered in white carnations and lilies
And as he drew his last breath, his life became stories
Parents, siblings, friends, in silence—would they find a reckoning
That life for him may’ve been brief, yet was once filled with pleasantries
The place was surrounded by gloom, by regrets, by cries
That a pail would have been filled for the boy who died
But they chose to laugh, to celebrate, that the boy was once alive
And peppered them with joy, with hope and with love
At some point, we often want to embody another person
To be wealthy as him, to be beautiful like her,
But those childish thinking is simply ever-changing,
That in times like this, with honest sigh, we’re lucky we’re not him
In this fast-moving place, I felt a trickle of shame,
Death had crossed my mind, lingered freely, more than once.
And yet for this boy, he kept trying, but was still robbed of life.
While still we’re here, still sitting and blessed with life
_________________
[media=https://vocaroo.com/18rLoP5NCYWW]
Ps. That’s my cat meowing in the background
01.25.26
And as he drew his last breath, his life became stories
Parents, siblings, friends, in silence—would they find a reckoning
That life for him may’ve been brief, yet was once filled with pleasantries
The place was surrounded by gloom, by regrets, by cries
That a pail would have been filled for the boy who died
But they chose to laugh, to celebrate, that the boy was once alive
And peppered them with joy, with hope and with love
At some point, we often want to embody another person
To be wealthy as him, to be beautiful like her,
But those childish thinking is simply ever-changing,
That in times like this, with honest sigh, we’re lucky we’re not him
In this fast-moving place, I felt a trickle of shame,
Death had crossed my mind, lingered freely, more than once.
And yet for this boy, he kept trying, but was still robbed of life.
While still we’re here, still sitting and blessed with life
_________________
This poem was for the boy who I once meet during childhood. Our parents are close friends growing up.
But we were not close as he was 4 years ahead of us. Though, from what I heard - he was a very cheerful positive person who had been bedridden for quite sometime due to illness.
During his wake last night, I felt money or presence is not enough to pay respect. Hence, I thought - maybe this person, with his life ever so brief, may have never been dedicated with poem. So I wrote him one and also sang a song for him by Phoebe Bridgers called “Funeral”.
__________________But we were not close as he was 4 years ahead of us. Though, from what I heard - he was a very cheerful positive person who had been bedridden for quite sometime due to illness.
During his wake last night, I felt money or presence is not enough to pay respect. Hence, I thought - maybe this person, with his life ever so brief, may have never been dedicated with poem. So I wrote him one and also sang a song for him by Phoebe Bridgers called “Funeral”.
[media=https://vocaroo.com/18rLoP5NCYWW]
Ps. That’s my cat meowing in the background
01.25.26
26-30, F
