Newly-dug Grave

In the distance,

I can hear the birds chirping.

Sweet sounds of nature

filter through, as people are lurking.

They stand around,

they cry

at the newly-dug grave,

and I sigh.

Was there ever a point,

just a fraction

in time when they knew it would end,

that I'd loose what I thought was mine?

After all, here I lay now.

I'm dead.

Or at least, so I think,

for thats what was said.

I can smell the freshly turned up earth-

Is this what corpses are?

they have no breath stuck in their lungs,

but they have perceptions, near and far.

I'm supposed to be gone.

That's what I was taught.

But I can hear stiffled whispers,

I can hear cries as they're caught.

Maybe I'm not dead, then.

Maybe the reality is,

that although something is over,

something new can begin.