“The problem isn’t so much
that I know I’m dead.
What I don’t understand
is why I’m still here.”
Do you see that over there? The chalked outline of a broken body? That’s me. Or at least it was. Now, I’m different. A little mad, maybe. Belligerent even. Because no one sees me any more.
The problem isn’t so much that I know I’m dead. What I don’t seem to understand is why I’m still here. I believed that, in death, we just stop. Much like going to sleep. Only we never wake up again. But here I am, less than a dozen feet away from my lifeless body, trying to reconcile what I’m experiencing.
Some instantaneous flashes of brain activity? Or maybe, is this some sort of afterlife? No one can see or hear me. As I moved around the lot and the people scurrying around in the background like static, I stared at my former body.
I was fixated. Like a mouth to flame, I couldn’t bring myself to look away. And the longer I stood there, the more I put the pieces together.
My body is dead, but my spirit is very much alive.
© Sarah Doughty
I can’t help but wonder
how long I have left.
Or, if I’m here alone.
A little thing inspired
by this month’s festivities.