At Langging's Wake...

while the preacher explains
a point in the bible, that we die
only to live again,

Fredelita passes by, goes to the
other door, and taps my
shoulder,

winks and signals that
there are other friends waiting
at the lounge,

seemingly she is stressing
the point
death is not a serious matter
we who remain
have other responsibilities

talking with friends for instance
reminiscing,
things we want to forget
matters we want to confront
fact is
not all that die young
are good grasses,

sometimes, Fredelita makes
sense.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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