Oakwood Cemetery

I imagine this is

What death feels like.

Sitting on the edge of

A graveyard,

Sheltered by trees.

Surrounded by the silent

Wisp of wind rustling

Around tombs,

With the faint hum

Of a highway in the distance.

There are other people

In the graveyard,

But they go in deeper,

They are far away,

They are still alive.

And there are other people

Outside the graveyard,

Carrying out their

Daily activities,

Living on.

I watch them in silence.

I feel nothing but the occasional

Twinge of sadness.

This is all that I am now.

A squirrel crushes the leaves

It leaps in,

And another momentarily displaces

The branches of a tree as

It makes its ascent.

Insects hardly crawl by now,

It is too cold and they have died.

There are two more squirrels.

I hear the scuttle of

Their claws hitting the bark

They chase each other on.

A woman walks by,

Returning home from work.

She has obligations and responsibilities.

She has a future.

A young man passes on his bike,

On his way to campus.

He has obligations and responsibilities,

Most of which he is currently avoiding.

He gets lunch with his friends and skips class.

He has a future.

I listen to the sounds of life and

Silence of death,

It doesn’t seem so quiet.

It is not loud.

It is numb.

I wait.

Listen.

Watch.

But I have no future.

*

Moments like this,

Sitting on the edge of

A graveyard,

Sheltered by trees,

Surrounded by the silent

Wisp of wind rustling

Around tombs,

With the faint hum

Of a highway in the distance,

Are nicer when

Experienced alive.

Death only sounds nice

When it hasn’t been experienced.

Moments in numbness

Outcompete eternities.

Moments in sadness

Are followed by

Moments of joy.

Wait.