The Corpse Delivers the Eulogy

When I was twelve, I would have said something like
“I’m afraid to die” or “I haven’t danced” or kissed
Or had sex or drank whiskey or fallen in love.
But they would have all meant the same.

When I was eighteen, I would have read religious poetry,
Telling you not to weep, that I have a bigger, happier,
Golden-bricked home on the other side of death.
An untested faith, thick in my throat with hope.

At twenty-five, I would have lied and told you
I’m not afraid to die; I would have proclaimed
It like a medal pinned to my chest, a badge
On a chain around my neck, false gold.

When forty hung on me, loose, worn, like a coat from Goodwill,
You could have seen the shaking bones and heard
The gentle rattling of my frame, no matter what I told you.
Because my beliefs and my words were at war.

Now fifty-four, almost fifty-five, I would say again,
“I’m not afraid to die,” but not because I have finally danced,
Or kissed, or had sex, or drank whiskey, or fallen in love—
Although I have done all those things.

I would sit in this casket, upright, less wise than I knew myself
At eighteen, or twenty-five, or even forty, smart enough
To have learned how little I actually know about the great veil
Of black beyond the poet’s “little sleep.”

All that I have believed has changed, has transformed much like
Zeus as he chased his lusts across the women of the earth;
I have loved belief like each mother of a demi-god was loved,
Each tweak of thought birthing new strength on the passing of the old.

The new gods I believe in are thus: watch your shadows for they
Will reveal the truths you hide, love covers all multitudes of sins,
Mind your own damn business, dig dig dig to find the depths
Of what you already believe, but just don’t know yet.

And if I remain to visit you again at a later funeral, if my return
To this casket allows me to say more, I will say this—I hope:
“I don’t know if I am afraid to die or not. My religion will have
Cocooned and flown again, so don’t ask me what I believe.
I haven’t lived that far enough yet.”