Love poems to the dead

 

All the people I had sensual
love with are dead—both lovers and non-
lovers who shared in my heart.  So,
I wouldn’t be able to stay here after
death like Andrea Gibson writes in
“Love Letter from the Afterlife.” I’ve
no one to touch.  Instead, I write love poems
to the dead.  And in death, would we be
reunited?  I don't believe in that kind of afterlife. 
Alive, I have poems.  Love stays near me in
poems, letters, photos, and memories. 
Tears come.  And smiles.  I want
to hug all of them and converse for hours. 
I wish to be moss under their trees, a tree
over their moss.  I sighed reading “Love Letters,”
grieved that I had no one alive to write
a love letter to, worried that I’ve been too
closed to love, too invulnerable
for health.  And I don’t know.  I'd like to
find out, but not enough to pursue it.

For Sherry's prompt "Love Letter from the Afterlife" at What's Going On? 

 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2025 Susan L. Chast