Broke

 

Old_New_InvertedColours

8yrs    |    35yrs

 

In memory of my big brother Thomas 25.02.1969 ~ 09.12.2014 whose death has not been investigated properly by a lousy, indifferent police department; whose day of death could only be estimated; whose 3 cats survived in his flat while he lay dead for approx. 6 days before he was found; whose corpse they just cremated without our consent; whose passing we didn’t know for 5 weeks; and whose death I was delayed to grieve in peace while working in a bullying company in Pret A Manger under a toxic and corrupt leadership, surviving a hostile work environment.

 

I still dance like this…

 

 

Broke

Ft. Poem: Emily Dickinson “To know just how He suffered would be dear”
Ft. Music: Dark Dark Dark “Something For Myself”

 

To know just how He suffered – would be dear
I want to hold you
To know if any Human eyes were near
what happened to you?


To whom He could entrust His wavering gaze
couldn’t find a way out of this endless maze?

Until it settle broad – on Paradise
my lights went out

 

To know if He was patient – part content
I’m a mess, you know

Was Dying as He thought – or different
can we rewind and find the switch?

Was it a pleasant Day to die
what day was it?

And did the Sunshine face his way
what hour of the day?

 

What was His furthest mind – Of Home or God
something you always sought

Or what the Distant say
I was here, not there

At news that He ceased Human Nature
at news
I ceased

Such a Day
such a day 

 

And Wishes – Had He Any
wish ! was there

Just His Sigh – Accented
breathless shocks unanswered

Had been legible – to Me
too blind to see

And was He Confident until
no one could

Ill fluttered out – in Everlasting Well
find the everlasting will

And if He spoke – What name was Best
that belongs to you

What last
belongs to you

What One broke off with
our hearts broke

At the Drowsiest
no knock on the door

Was He afraid – or tranquil
a fighter still

Might He know
one showed

How Conscious Consciousness – could grow
you knew more than I

Till Love that was – and Love too best to be
missed you

Meet – and the Junction be Eternity
why am I still this side of it?

(So, I dance like this
for me …

Cats
don’t pull me in
let me breathe
don’t like to be)

 

Text: »To Know Just How He Suffered—Would Be Dear« Emily Dickinson, 1863 + »Broke« poetrasblok.com, 2015

Music: “something for myself” Dark Dark Dark, 2011

 

Emily Dickinson handwriting To know just how

Emily Dickinson’s handwriting »To Know Just How He Suffered—Would Be Dear«, 1863

 

©2015/2018 poetrasblok.com 

 

Unless otherwise stated or linked to, this website and all writings within this site are the property of poetrasblok.com, expret.org, LateNightGirl.org and are protected by copyright and other intellectual property laws. Reproduction and distribution of my writings without written permission are prohibited.

©2017 – Present poetrasblok.com, expret.org, LateNightGirl.org unless otherwise stated. All Rights reserved. Disclaimer.

 

In Germany they send Urns via Post

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Or click here: https://expret.org/2018/06/21/in-germany-they-send-urns-via-post

 

The postal service in Germany is very reliable and on time. German efficiency, hey?

What is it with an efficient country like Germany that has a well working ID system to find anyone’s relatives, anywhere who is registered in their system, to then not bother finding next of kin of a loved one who died?! Not finding a mother who’s address and phone number has been the same since 30+ years, safely tucked in the ID system, but she couldn’t be found?!

And what is it with this highly sophisticated system to then cremate my brother without our consent?!!

And what qualitative organized people, after they finally find one family member, then give the message of my brother’s death via email?!

And what highly educated people of this efficient country later sends his urn via post?!!

Where did they lose their emotional intelligence?! Did they ever have any?! What school taught them the art of stepping on dignity like this?!

I received a second letter recently from the court in my family’s town that deals with inheritance issues, since my father died in March this year. The court asked me again to provide contact details of my brother, whose ashes are in this urn because of the last will of our dad that is registered and stored with this court. I have decided since this efficient system didn’t bother to find and inform us in time of my brother’s death and then just cremated him and allow a system that sends urn via postal service, that this efficient system needs to do their homework properly to find my brother. Dead.

TK Urn

 

An Urn is an even Smaller Domain

 

An Urn is an even smaller Domain

Not able to contain

A Heart once beating

A Life so beaten down to diminished Pain

 

A Rock is a restricted Lot

Yet better than a Stone

A Poor Man’s Plot

Forgotten not, and yet it stands alone

 

To Him who at His cumbrous Door

Bestowed His final Breath

Circumstances know we not

Nor Estimated Death.

 

— ©LateNightGirl

 

Inspired by Emily Dickinson’s poem:

 

A Coffin — is a small Domain,

Yet able to contain

A Citizen of Paradise

In it diminished Plane.

 

A Grave — is a restricted Breadth —

Yet ampler than the Sun —

And all the Seas He populates

And Lands He looks upon

 

To Him who on its small Repose

Bestows a single Friend —

Circumference without Relief —

Or Estimate — or End —

 

— Emily Dickinson

 

TK candles

Thomas, I’m sorry we’ve let you down

 

 

Unless otherwise stated or linked to, this website and all writings within this site are the property of poetrasblok.com, LateNightGirl.org and are protected by copyright and other intellectual property laws. Reproduction and distribution of my writings without written permission are prohibited.

©2017 – 2019 poetrasblok.com, LateNightGirl.org unless otherwise stated. All Rights reserved. Disclaimer.