i sometimes have this dream
where i'm at my own funeral
and all the pews are empty
as i sit i notice
a fly perched
on a pew two rows
from my casket
twitching nervously
as if he was waiting
for an apocalyptic
rolled up magazine
empathizing with him
i noticed a lone person
in the back
draped in white
and glowing
with sorrow
as she approached the casket
i saw a face like my own
my daughter
and felt a great and hungry
grief
that she had inherited
my burden
the fly had lit upon
my box
and grieved my loss
and when he offered condolences
to my daughter
his kingdom had come
with a swift gloved hand
i understood then
on the one hand
immortality through
a child's love
on the other
compassion
begets cruelty
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem