Imagine to be able to give
a sign to those left behind
after you are dead,
a shiver, a whisper,
a signal from the afterlife you say.
That must be magnificent.
But would it not be better
to call on others
whilst you are alive? I say.
I do not understand this craving
for ruling from the grave,
to be a ghost behind wallpaper
and live on, unseen, but noticed
by the sensitive quiet third cousin
who was scared of you when you were alive;
I would rather be decently dead
than haunting people in darkness,
than denying my departure,
than watching how others
go through my belongings, now theirs,
try on my clothes, my rings,
walk over my floors,
read my private letters,
as they move on to the light
without care, not knowing yet,
as I would do by then,
what it is they have to find out.