Curtains

by Peter Franklin

Drawn around for what appears to the be last time
Dimming outside light as gossamer images
Flit and dance on the other side.
Wayang Kulit. The shadow puppets…
One final show before the light fades behind them.
No more shadows then.
They reach in…Taunting, Tantalizing,
Telling stories for the ages.
Romance. Tragedy. Loves lost.
Celebrations never to be erased.
They fade from view for just a moment…
I reach lucidity even in the hovering darkness.
I wonder  how I’ll be remembered…
How the final words will sound to my ever-deaf ears.
If there are enough good things to be recalled, then perhaps
I have been a kind, patient, tolerant soul.
Well, maybe not so patient.
But I will hold the door for you…
Please and thank you…
My, you look lovely today.
Then again, perhaps not.
I am impatient,
Even now waiting for the shadows to dance again.
Wayang Kulit.
I’ve been known to be judgmental.
Can tell an off-color joke at precisely the wrong moment.
Here lies an enigmatic not-so-young man…
Irreverent…Childish…
Slightly full of himself…
Wondering aloud what the world thinks of him.
Does it matter wither my ashes go…will
Their mere presence make a difference?
Could they ever make a difference…?
Now, pull back the curtains and let’s get on with it.
Night is about to lift…
Legend has it that the dead never really die…
The soul lives forever.
Saya kembali,  dust and all.
The curtains are
Wafting…