When We Die

Sam Malpass  pinterest.com

Sam Malpass   pinterest.com

When we die
they will tell lies
about all our virtues
Paint over all our flaws
`til no one can see the crack
running down our mast
from the crows`nest
to its iron anchor
on the deck

Then they’ll
put a cross down
over our teak coffin
saying we were faithful
when in fact we foundered
sank like poor St Peter
when taking our eye
off the One who
was our rock

When we die
they’ll do all this
out of their own need
not ours since our spirits
will have pulled`up anchor
left harbor under full`sail
on their journey thru
distant star`fields
for true home

“There’s probably more fiction in an obit than any other writing.” ~ Jean McGarry


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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7 Responses to When We Die

  1. thus must the poet write his own epitaph

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh yes – love that last stanza…

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Cheryl Ruffing says:

    I agree about the last stanza. Funerals aren’t for the dead.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. rivrvlogr says:

    Brilliant metaphor, Peter.


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