KEEP TO THIS Poem by Rogi Wieg

Only what's left of you
at this funeral, only some flowers, and
a municipal poet, yes, me. I too
have tried, only not under a
train, differently, perhaps less fatally:
in those final
seconds something can still be done, that's how I did it.

What's left of you, what they could still find, I
speak to it as if to a man
at a station, in a café, what I say
concerns the end and that's so ordinary, so
deadly dull that I'm almost ashamed, but
what does one say faced with a drama?
A drama with some flowers, missing
characters. Or people? For me this is all just
a story: like the whole of reality.

Rest. Do nothing else, especially nothing rash.
Keep to this and if not nature will
probably keep you to it.