I wrote this poem several weeks ago, and debated whether or not to share it with you. But then I realized that my discomfort was sort of the point. Poetry should feel raw and personal, sometimes even a little awkward.
Humans are. ;)
— Jennifer
Social
Two of my closest friends
sister and brother souls
have shouted their hate, their rage
their “anti-” in all caps
proclaiming I am dead to them
Yet still they send baby animal videos to my cindered remains
thinking me alive and able to meet-up for coffee or possibly brunch
mistaking cooling ashes for the one they loved
I answer from beyond the grave with smiley emojis
because it is a Sunday, and I rest in peace