#45: The Great Truth

The great truth

We worship the dead as if they hear us,

We smile and say empty words at a gathering,

Bodies, all paying respect to an individual they had no care for,

Tearing up,

Only to dance a minute later,

Condolences that mimic that of great monologues,

Black dresses congregated around an already empty tomb,

Voices all raised in unity to praise an individual they had no use for,

And in the midst of that,

We all shiver,

For even the fastest,

Cannot out run the grave.

©Aisha-Nicole 2013

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