Poetry: #131 The Grave and Unfortunate Lie (Remergence 1)

A selection from a personal collection: Remergence

Preface

This is a quasi-sequel to Demise. Most poems were written in 2015 (all but “Hope and Love” and “Learned Enough, Never All”). This is a collection with a strong central idea that I grew away from and, by consequence, the end to it comes more abrupt than I’d like. Each week Remergence drops, a little more to the mind of the narrator from Demise is shared.

The Grave and Unfortunate Lie

They lay me down in the field, naked.
Blasphemic words aimed to disarm me.
I’m alone, surrounded by many who are, sacred.
Harsh pointed, brash, impossible words.
Sentenced-structured to keep me in some torture.
The truth is that all they feel is necessary only brings me enjoyment from my perch in the tree on the wayside. They think I’m punished, when in reality I’ve been given a slice of heaven here on earth that I can use to grow my own way. I’m one with the very soil that we are made of, and yet my actions are mocked, my deliberate trials and cynical memoirs leave a bad taste to all but me.
And I couldn’t help that I was nothing more than a being.
My gravestone is simple, nothing special, just a stone slab. No granite, no words other than my name, and they even put the dates there as well, bless them.

And yet I still surmise that there is much for them to realize about my penalty.
Even if God’s wrath was present where would I be but some other reality?
Perhaps a galaxy, but in truth I prefer my theory of interdimensional deities.
See, anyone with a brain would know that fallen angels are nothing more than these beings from other dimensions using their abilities to blip to our three dimensions and when they are exhausted they go back.
One could even say that these beings feed off the fear that humans provide, thus the reason for hauntings that follow us on all sides.
Perhaps I am wrong, but if their energy is our disenchanting misery then all evil in this world makes far more sense. It is not the human to be blamed for being led to an act considered heinous if they can prove an ectoplasmic being made them commit the act.
In fact, there would be no reason to persecute any of our actions in the sight of such a force causing the turmoil we infer as our own.
But I digress.

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Question Section

What have you considered that seemed novel when contemplating life after death? What does punishment of crimes look like? What about the blessings in that future state? Do you believe science can shed light on your ideas in due course?

What are your thoughts on this poem?

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The flat, granite grave

Another poem drops every Saturday and there’s short stories, essays, and What the Book Podcast drops too!