FOUR SPEAKING SOULS
An edition of poems:
spoken by four cultures, experiences, and backgrounds.
Inspired by the grand Parisian cemetery Le Père-Lachaise: a small town for those who have passed, within the City of Lights.
Influenced by the many voices, lives, and heritages represented by over one million bodies entombed there.
A mirror of death and life.
How our own perspectives and rituals from life may continue on with us even after death.
TURTLE
How do I want to be left, in cold and in stone?
All I remember of Earth is the dry brush of grass by the roadside,
A coyote’s glance as she ducks under barbed-wire fence,
The Indian paint flowers glowing like ambers in the afternoon sun.
All I remember of Earth are the dark-brown floors that shine like chestnuts
The hundred strands of color in a horse’s mane.
The sound of rain striking a metal barn roof,
A shot gun in the distance, cracking in half.
Will my name be Opal or Granite?
I saw those fall colors,
They were bright yellow and luminous.
Aspen leaves, like sheets hanging to dry in the desert air.
A sage brush fire, sending smoke to the mountainside heavens.
Sharp coyote voices breaking the black night fabric.
The first yellow buds of spring time.
All I remember of Earth is the mossy ground,
The light filtered down green from the redwood canopy.
Vast and endless canyonland and jagged hot peaks.
Cliffs bedded and striped by the passage of time.
Devil’s Garden and Navajo Sandstone.
Would I choose to be stone or ash?
LOST SOUL
Can you tell who I am?
Woke up empty, inexpressive and dead.
I see my corpse, lying in an agitated box.
Or shall I say, my tomb?
Can you tell who I am?
Leaving this tight space, leaving my corpse,
I am floating above thousands of tombs, a lost soul in this crazy town.
Some are old, some are new,
Some are old, some are young.
Can you tell who I am?
I see many belong to Christianity,
Some to Buddhism, and a few to Judaism,
But, what about Hinduism?
I see no Hindus.
I see no Indians.
Is it just me?
Can you tell who I am?
My body still feels impure and untouchable even after the rituals of my funeral.
Traditionally, my body should not exist, it should have been burned.
And my ashes to be thrown in the Ganges river.
Why is my body left in this tomb?
Why is my tomb in this small town?
Is this really a town?
Can you tell who I am?
Here I am, I lie in eternal peace.
Death and heaven have brought me to their door.
BURY ME WHERE MY COLORS SHALL BE
The world was made for those who observed.
That, they did not know.
At the time, I thought it had been absurd.
They did not see life’s glow.
I saw what was left unseen.
To many the sky seemed blue, clear and clean.
Amber, Alloy Orange, Atomic Tangerine,
Unknown colors, that once portrayed, provoked a scene.
Up and down, left to right my paint brush went,
However here I am, I have got no more scent.
I know I have left my mark,
In today’s world, that to me, seems so dark.
Bury me where the sun beams.
Bury me where a child releases his dreams.
Bury me, by turning me into ashes.
Bury me by placing them on my paintings.
Bury me by still making me present.
Bury me without erasing my scent.
Bury me where I allowed so many of you to dream.
Bury me where my colors gleam.
ONLY ME
In 3 minutes I will end my life
I’m not sure if I’m ready to say goodbye
But I know it’s time for me to die
11:57
I don’t even know
Am I the body or am I the soul?
I don’t think there will be an afterlife
But I do believe there is a previous one
11:58
Do I change my nationality or my sex?
I once wished my hair would be black.
Honestly I don’t really want to die in Paris
It sounds quite lonely
No family, no accompany
Only me
Buried at the corner of Saint-Honoré street
11:59
Dear family
After I die could you bring me back?
Bury me somewhere nice
Not in those tombs with no vitality
Find me somewhere free
Facing the sun, near the sea
Don’t pour my ashes into the river
Where I’m sure I will be eaten by the fish
00:00
Elena Marshall
Tanisha Jain
Lynn-Sacha Hanna
Ashley Song
