A Year of Poems – Day 89

When the soul has fled from its earthly home
to join its maker in that great abode,
what is it’s state and what’s inside the load
it carries to the infinite shalom
from the world of din? What is the imprint
of the flesh database inside our skulls
with all the records kept of who we’d been
and what we’d seen before our rotting hulls
let in the sea of time? Do we go in
blank, washed of the scars of mental trauma,
cleansed too of the joyous human drama
of loss then love which drew us tightly in?
Or is the spirit pressed in mem’ry’s ink
with a stamp that changes how we think?

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