Ask for a Visitation Dream
People go along in their life and then bam. Dead. Deceased. Kaput.
Survivors sit by a headstone and talk to them. I am not kidding!
They are not in there, folks.
Their body is nothing. The soul is their essence.
The sitters are now spread eagle on the graves, sobbing.
What the what? Do they not believe in a soul? I am gob-smacked.
Curious, all those Sundays spent in church and they think dead is dead.
Sure, the body is gone; going faster and faster, turning to dust.
But what about the soul people?
Do you not realize the soul cannot die?
The soul is busy, rolling her eyes at your silliness.
Pay attention to the soul; she has gone on with her life.
The soul is real, more real than this flesh life ever was.
It was a shell, a suit, a costume. Get off the grave. It is nothing.
A waste of money even.
Your memories and photos are the real deal.
Pick yourself up and go home, where your loved one occasionally visits.
Better yet, ask them for a visitation dream.
Sometimes it is the only way to get one.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2021
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment