We met at a funeral.
What a sick coincidence, right?
Life and death
Gain and loss
Order and chaos
Beginnings and endings
all wrapped up into one.
But that's the truth.
She was in the corner,
arms wrapped in soft sleeves,
oblivious
but taking in everything at once.
Our eyes met,
caught fire.
It was a beginning to end all beginnings.
And even though her words were hidden inside a maze of things I knew and knew and knew and couldn't escape,
I spoke.
My voice penetrated the aura of endings and beginnings
and shapeless shadows shedding devastating, wonderful tears.
At a funeral.
She lit up the hallway and burned behind the lampshade,
she glowed like a heartbeat
even in the corner of a funeral.
But all it took a year later was another fire to catch
Of course we would crumble to ash-
We met at a funeral.
Yes it reminds me of Eliot's East Coker....In my beginning is my end.......Good poet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Of course we would crumble to ash... I love the straightforwardness of it. You express yourself powerfully with metaphors and images without seeming to do so specifically to be poetic. It's natural, and that's why it works so well.10