Welcome to my Funeral

to die is to rest — rizal, 1896

in the loving memory of
Fria D. Narte

November 17, 1998 – October 10, 2019

I felt a funeral in my brain,
And mourners, to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That sense was breaking through.

And when they all were seated,
A service like a drum
Kept beating, beating, till I thought
My mind was going numb.

And then I heard them lift a box,
And creak across my soul
With those same boots of lead,
Then space began to toll

As all the heavens were a bell,
And Being but an ear,
And I and silence some strange race,
Wrecked, solitary, here.

And then a plank in reason, broke,
And I dropped down and down —
And hit a world at every plunge,
And finished knowing — then —

Emily Dickinson, I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

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