Friday, February 24, 2017

Narrative and Poem -- Stumble. Stop.

Growing up in a funeral home isn’t scary. I've only known life with dead people. I always look at them, the dead. They're the temporary guests in our house, guests I’ve never met before, but I am completely comfortable around them — and they seem to enjoy my entertainment. I kind of like them in a way; I don’t know anything about their lives — whether they were nice or mean or crazy. They're just our temporary guests who have callers coming and going and whispering and crying.

© Stumple. Stop.

Come and go, come and go.
Tedious; it’s always the same.
Come, go, come, go.
See that colorful, camphor window?
No, you can’t see in; I can’t see out.
Footfalls; step, step, step.
Voices whispering
Sounding like hissing snakes;
Tears and sniffles and
Step, step, come and go.
Why have you come?
Not for the wedding;
You’re too late.
Oh, for the funeral;
You know he lost his connection?
Yes, and he lost his heart;
He lost his mind.
He lost his head.
Someone said, “He would
Not have done it, otherwise.”
Whispers, footfalls, step, step, step.
Come and go, come and go.

Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved


  1. A haunting journey through an innocent mind. The prologue helps set the stage.

    1. Yes, a child's mind. Thank you for commenting. Always appreciated.

  2. well said... and, of course, you get NO complaints from your visitors ;)

    1. Thank you and thank you for the comments. No, visitors won't complain to an innocent :)