The Dead are Astonished

The moments before 
are all urgency
a cacophony 

of what-ifs and where
-nows, the confusion 
of breath and pulse 

and holding on
and then the slow 
unraveling

of the ties 
that keep us bound
to earth

to life as it is,
as it was,

And then. . .

The dead are astonished
by the dying itself 
how it comes subtle 

like the scent 
of rain before
The first drops 

that fall unnoticed
except for the small 
circles on the pavement

And surprised 
by the weight of it all
a thing never considered 

in the morning hours 
just before and how 
it is lighter than air

not what was expected at all
And the overwhelming 
ache to laugh

How strange now 
the living are to the dead
so heavy with longing

So the dead avoid the living
and gather in large open spaces 
with all the other dead

and dance elaborate dances
laugh and lounge in trees
taking time to read the books 

they always wanted to
or write letters they 
should have written 

a long time ago
And the dead 
are astonished 

by everything 
and the dead 
are constantly 

in awe

Maybe that is why 
the dead rarely attend
their own funerals

but look on
sending their love
from a distance

afraid of 
the hand still 
reaching for them

or the old habit
of living.