Sway With A Corpse
Have you ever stared into the eyes of a corpse that was still breathing?
A corpse not resting calmly in a casket,
but standing straight, pallid, rigid, bleak–
it’s quite a devastating experience I must admit,
especially when I realized this is not a gruesome dream.
–this is my reality.
The encounter took place when the sun flashed above my head,
confronting me like a single bulb,
both blinding and interrogating.
There was not a shadow to run away to nor a sanctuary for my brain to seek refuge in.
ignorance is bliss
until it offers you a dance.
Laying upon my cheek a kiss of death;
feet sliding along a floor that reveals itself to be a weak foundation,
underneath lies the one truth I had chosen not to look down at,
convinced that if I held my gaze up,
if I did not acknowledge the unstable ground beneath me,
I could somehow keep my balance.
But it was when this corpse slowly lifted its mask, flesh so familiar to me;
for it was my friend, my love, my other half–
the music suddenly stopped,
the guests gasped in unison,
my body became numb,
and it was at that moment that I discovered I had not been a reliable dance partner.
I had chosen to waltz around the room absentmindedly.
I had chosen to sway to the moans and the cries,
insisting it was just an off-key violin,
I had chosen to believe the corpse was fine,
not rotting with every step-
But a person can be standing right in front of you,
yet not be alive.
And now I grieve.