A Conversation With My Cadaver

Lifeless on a cold steel bed he lay,
His body drenched in formaline,
His lifetime story encrypted on his flesh in the form of scars,
Flaps of skin dangling,
His insides peeping out desperately seeking for attention,
A permanent facial expression and erection; Rigor Mortis!
Another one ticked off Malak al-Maut, Azrael the angel of death’s list.

They say the dead don’t see, feel or hear;
They claim death is the end of one’s journey and a full stop to their existence,
They say there is no life after death, nothing beyond the grave nor the last heartbeat;

BUT I had a conversation with my cadaver,
Yes, I dissected his heart out but we had a heart to heart conversation,
I told him about my difficulty with Anatomy and his soul was filled with heartfelt sympathy,
They claim the heartless are cruel and cold yet his soul was so warm and beaming with empathy,
They have us thinking its the heart that defines a humanbeing when they know damn well that its the soul.

I had a conversation with my cadaver,
We spoke of ancestry and spirituality,
He spoke of his struggles and challenges,
He painted a vivid image of the day he died- the ultimate betrayal; poisoned by an acquaintance,
We spoke of death and Rigor Mortis,
He told me of the two earths he’d come to know of; one with living breathing beings and another with lingering restless souls,
He spoke of empires built on dreams,
Kindoms anchored by the foundations of people’s nightmares,
He spoke of spirit slaves who serve the dark lords who roam the earth like cowards in the night,

“Are lingering souls ghosts?”, I asked.
“Open your eyes, we exist! Listen to the voices in the wind and you’ll hear conversations, love songs, screams, prayers and the songs of our struggle”, he replied.

His voice faded but I’m sure that I had a conversation with my cadaver!

Before I left the dissection hall I took a look at him and ;
Lifeless on a cold steel bed he lay,
His body drenched in formaline,
His lifetime story encrypted on his flesh in the form of scars,
Flaps of skin dangling,
His insides peeping out desperately seeking for attention,
A permanent facial expression and erection; Rigor Mortis!
Another one ticked off Malak al-Maut, Azrael the angel of death’s list.

*this poem was inspired by a nightmare that I had a few weeks back

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.
Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

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About tshauambea

I am a lover of poetry and nature; a writer and aspiring photographer. View all posts by tshauambea

16 responses to “A Conversation With My Cadaver

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