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2006-11-29, 11:14 p.m.

a poem

An Elegy

it's all well and good to read about it
bartleby frozen papier-mache stiff on the stark stairs
fantine's serene face cast in divine snow-pale light
and watch it, glorified, intimate, immediate:
eternally young teenage celebrities beautiful in hospital beds
despite their dwindling white-blood-cell count,
others systematically slaughtered, mere pawns
in a murderer's demented vengeance.

in all truthfulness,
i know that
i read kafka
to soften the blow
of the inevitable.
i watch horrendously graphic movies
in an attempt to discern
a secret logic
that governs the taking of a life.
and yet,
when it is right in front of me
palpable, tangible,
realer than any artist could render,
only then do i remember
that it is the living
who suffer
the most.
only then do i remember
how transient
and complicated
and small we all are

i am afraid.

i never knew you
but i am certain
that you are
finally
at
peace.

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