The Dead Hold Their Secrets by Ben Rasnic

The dead hold their secrets
close to the vest………………..

Life is fleeting, analogous
to an Appalachian sunset
in Autumn

or a vibrant rainbow
born from a brief yet
torrential rain.

We feign at omniscience,
consoling ourselves
through trite rituals petitioning
for the dead to be in a better place,

pedestrian attempts to cloak
our intrinsic dread of death
and the void that separates
those who have passed on

from we who, sequestered
by the confines of our physicality,
still remain

questioning that
which we cannot comprehend;

to ponder that
which lies beyond;

to muse
whether or not the light
still burns bright

once the refrigerator door
has shut.

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Ben Rasnic is originally from Jonesville, Va (population <1000). His published poetry collections include: “Artifacts and Legends”, “Puppet”, “The Eleventh Month” and “Synchronicity”.

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