Public Republic

Daniel Beyer

**Author’s note: I recommend listening to, “First Floor People” by Barcelona, in order to get the full listening experience for the work.

Please say your final words to the deceased
and then we will close the casket for the last time

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And then I watched them all walk by.
I, standing next to my pine box,
the last sleep I ever caught.
It’s quite quiet. They make sounds, I think,
But I can’t really tell.
Everything seems more like
an old-fashioned film: no sound, no color.
I look into their faces as they stare at mine –
my other face. But I don’t see that light:
my spark, the one that forged a connection
between us with a glance.
No, I see only gray, formed faces
that stare aimlessly around the contents of the box,
their wandering spirit practicing twining around mine
as it leaves the room in anguish.
I wander – it only seems right,
but I never leave them. They,
the mass of my life,
the living blocks that carry my essence,
my heart. All of the physical places
and things hold no part of me,
they have been emptied for a
new generation to bind to.

“…and now a reading, ‘The wind blows over it
and it is gone, and its place remembers it not more…’”

They make lines, ordered, swaying lines
that all face a box.
As if their concerted efforts
will stop time, will make it ok.
I parade before the remnants,
but it means less and less.
I don’t remember –
The house, it’s not my house.
Filled with the people I know –
I knew. They move about it,
if I stay in one room long enough,
they’ll eventually be back. At day,
I can hope they think of me,
and for a moment, one moment,
I suddenly exist again, but
I’ll soon fade…
With the night goes everything,
they shut down and leave this world.
I am left with nothing. I am nothing.
I watch, I wait, I try to get close,
but it only makes the reality
more clear to me:

I am not,
no longer,
will not,
can not…
never.