Rites

Among our thoughts are rites, following words
Prescribed by pigtailed pundits of yore, talking,
In the bombastic language of our ancient gods
To airy spirits who had bodies in the olden days.
They understood us mostly in difficult language.

 
As words went, our hands went, our eyes went
Our tongues moved, our bodies stirred slowly.
Our thoughts remained on the dead, as if dying.
We stared at the sky in its lifeless continuum
And we took water to lips, thrice, thinking of her
Among the ones who once had bodies like us.

 

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