In our life, death is no song.
Do you hear it?
Silence.
In the graveyard,
not a single person is
speaking.
‘Living’ and ‘death’,
Paired up,
Sounds clunky.

Like two estranged neighbors
living side by side
Exchanging nothing more than an occasional casual wave
“Hello.”

The two perform a dance that is
Tense.
Performative.
Seen only by the random neighbor.
And then…
someone draws the curtain,


What is the silent gesture for,
“Goodbye?”

I think it’s a clap,
Two of them,
Short and sweet,
Like a life 
well-lived.

Subscribe for poems and interesting reads.