Eternal life

An immortal soul, that's

something for me

wish for,

To be off on a long trek after my

body's buried

And my friends have driven way from the graveyard.

Where am

headed? Not downward, if I'm permitted

To judge by the rules of fairness as I conceive them,

For nothing I've done seems ripe

for eternal punishment.

Not upward, for nothing merits eternal bliss.

Odds are I'll stay where I am, forever earthbound,

And face the problem of filling the endless return

Of earthly summers and autumns, winters and springs.

It won't be easy for being retired from action,

A shadow too weak even to hold open a door

When a friend among the living, bearing 4

tray,

Comes to join her guests

the verandah.

The conversation should hold my interest all evening

Even if I can't participate, my voice too small.

But later, when strangers fill the familiar rooms,

I'll seem to be listening to a script that's conventional,

To acting forced and wooden, and slip outside.

What then? Do keep my distance from other ghosts

Or join them in sharing stories about the old days

In cricket whispers? Either way, I'll wonder about the joy

imagined coming my way with death behind me,

Not looming ahead, and leisure, so scarce before,

Suddenly limitless. Not much solace is likely

When I compare the vague ghosts of my friends

With the living originals, whose particular lusters