Do we love zombies and vampires because they reassure us that death is a temporary but yet a reocurring problem? Death in my world doesn’t have risers…it has sleepers and sometimes ghosts that don’t do much to alleviate the fear that there is a border crossing with attentive guards between this world and the next.
I have never met a zombie. I have never taken a vampire to lunch.
What I have found are shadows and passings between the membrane
that seem to say ” You are here and I am there….how can it be otherwise?” My little cat who died recently still brushes my ankle in an empty room. The voices of the past harmonize with angry winds outside the windows….I live at the edge of the Valley
Forge Park where so many men perished. I never know how to talk about this or how to answer the questions of those who have lost others. Does Death have a voice?
In this life we look to more. It all seems so brief and intangible
when we try to grasp its meaning. Why do people have to leave us? Why do we have to leave the dance?
I know we don’t take our bodies with us. Did we forget them? or
just remember to remove them when we get to the doorway out? Can we come back if we forgot something — just to comment or pick it up or see how the world is without us?
Nothing seems sufficient when we think of death. Nothing seems to give it body never mind voice. As someone who is an actress I like to read lines, not silences.