You Bear My Pall

You bear my pall,

Oh senseless age,

Without any grief.

Without any rage,

You place my shell

On a floating leaf,

And duly tell me,

“Rest in peace.”

And then you think

Your work is done—

Disposed of carrion

Before the stink

Could rise up to offend

Your delicate thought

And nostrils again,

And that I could be bought

By death’s apocryphal promise.

But I have news for you,

Old man:

I am not dead in any way.

My life has crossed another span

To live another way.

And as my spirit

Hovers and broods

Over the waters,

I‘ll tell the news

Of how you’ve spewed fallacious.

Oh! How the reality

Will set men free,

And women will bask

In liberty,

And speak with open minds,

And feel the living life

That swells

And bursts with tidal joy,

And bells

Will ring

Of alllllll different kinds.

-jenn long