poetry critical

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the departed

nothing but
the ticks
of the clock
to interrupt
the night.
voicemail is full
preserves condolences
dust resembles ashes
outlines what was halted
final moves
and a cockroach
roams with no fear.
there used to be life here.
colors and voices.
light. promise.
before death broke in
and ransacked everything.
the microwave
the fan
the only witnesses
who saw everything
never mourn
are all that have
moved on.
life is lived forwards
and understood
kierkegaard said.
but this morning
I am frozen
eyes filled
with the deceased
the lines on my face
a prison.

4 Nov 18

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Very good poem. I liked how the appliances are the mourners and that this person was a hermit (as I understood it). Death affects us all differently and this clearly speaks to pain and loss. I like the reference to the cockroach moving without fear and the dust outlines. It speaks to still frames of the things leftover once death has "ransacked". The end wraps up that the pain is a prison that draws lines on the face and the eye fills with memories. Very well done. Makes me sorry for your loss.
 — unknown