Status: thank you.
The Sanctuary Beyond the Undergrowth
fourteen
We read Thanatopsis in English class.
. . .Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world -- with kings,
The powerful of the earth -- the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. . .
I asked Ms. Rose if I could have a copy of the poem to take home. After school I read it to Keith, hoping it’d lift his spirits. He only laughed and told me the entire thing was wishful thinking. “When you’re dead you are alone, Elouise. There’s no one to make you dinner, no one to tell you they love you, or to even keep you company. When you’re dead you’re gone. And it’s a lonely place.”
I closed the book and put it aside, bowing my head.
“Have you died before?” I asked.
Keith smiled at me wryly. “Yeah. Plenty of times.”
I shook my head. “No—you haven’t.” We locked eyes. “If you had, you wouldn’t be breathing, or your heart wouldn’t be beating, and you definitely wouldn’t be talking to me. You’re alive.”
Frowning, he shook his head this time. “You don’t get it, do you? I haven’t died physically, but I’ve died... well—inside. It happens to the best of us.”
“Do you like talking to me?” I asked.
Keith looked at me stunned. “Yeah.”
“Do you like me?”
He hesitated some. “Like? What do you mean?”
“I mean do you like me.”
Keith still hesitated. “I mean... yeah. You’re cool.”
I got up and gave him the poem. He stared at me wearily, but extended his arm and took it. I smiled at him goodbye. “Then you’re alive.”
I could feel his eyes on me the entire time I walked away.
. . .Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world -- with kings,
The powerful of the earth -- the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. . .
I asked Ms. Rose if I could have a copy of the poem to take home. After school I read it to Keith, hoping it’d lift his spirits. He only laughed and told me the entire thing was wishful thinking. “When you’re dead you are alone, Elouise. There’s no one to make you dinner, no one to tell you they love you, or to even keep you company. When you’re dead you’re gone. And it’s a lonely place.”
I closed the book and put it aside, bowing my head.
“Have you died before?” I asked.
Keith smiled at me wryly. “Yeah. Plenty of times.”
I shook my head. “No—you haven’t.” We locked eyes. “If you had, you wouldn’t be breathing, or your heart wouldn’t be beating, and you definitely wouldn’t be talking to me. You’re alive.”
Frowning, he shook his head this time. “You don’t get it, do you? I haven’t died physically, but I’ve died... well—inside. It happens to the best of us.”
“Do you like talking to me?” I asked.
Keith looked at me stunned. “Yeah.”
“Do you like me?”
He hesitated some. “Like? What do you mean?”
“I mean do you like me.”
Keith still hesitated. “I mean... yeah. You’re cool.”
I got up and gave him the poem. He stared at me wearily, but extended his arm and took it. I smiled at him goodbye. “Then you’re alive.”
I could feel his eyes on me the entire time I walked away.