I keep going back to that day
as if that one day, that one act
reflected your whole life
and I try to call you back from that distortion
but who would I be looking at
with the knowledge that life drove you to your death
am I the distortion
am I still wearing my own shoes
(they never gave us back your shoes)
I saw you
how bad could your shoes be
I feel like you don’t belong to us anymore
because of the way they handed you back for half an hour
handed a human being back
not the objects, the shoes, the clothes
what, you think I can’t handle the blood stains now
only to keep you, take you back, move you into the fire
and I try to comprehend that the body without the soul
is suddenly an unholy object in the hands of unknown caretakers
something that must not be on display for too long
something that must also disappear
something that must find its way out of the world
something that has lost its soul
s o m e o n e inanimate
who belongs to me still
Croque-Melpomene 