WHO SHALL BURY THE DEAD

~I think I should write~ Maybe silence would do just fine because the words wouldn't just come. A numb sensation had gradually spread from my heart to the rest of the body. I had been cheated yet no one could avenge me. I had lost someone dear yet I had not been given the chance to grieve.
Who shall bury the dead? Is it the living who are so immobilized by grief? Or is it the ones so distant from the dead? The dead are dead and the living are only a step away from the grave yet the society wouldn't let them grieve. "Why let them grieve? ", we ask. There are elaborate burial plans to be made, will(s) to be read and executed, bills to be paid, deadlines to be met and appearances to be put up. In the midst of the frenzy, the dead wish to be truly buried: buried beneath the pavilion of legacies. The dead wish to live on in our hearts and still influence us to make the right decisions.
Who shall bury the dead? Let the dead bury their dead...and the living grieve for the dead. But what do I know? I am no mouthpiece for the dead. ~I think not to write~

    *** WHY DANCE THEY STILL? ***
The music has stopped
The dancers are still
Dancing to a beat of their own
They were not the piper
Yet they seemed to dictate the tune
Were they real?
Why dance they still?

The music has stopped
The sky is dark
There must be a conspiracy
For my heart has also stopped
Am I real?
Why live I still?

The music has stopped
But the race isn't over
It only took a sharp turn.
It's so real;
Life continues still...
©Nikoslexie 2017