The Funeral of Jan Palach - #poem by David Shapiro

The Funeral of Jan Palach [read by Paul O'Mahony in Jan Palach Square, Prague] When I entered the first meditation I escaped the gravity of the object, I experienced the emptiness, And I have been dead a long time. When I had a voice you could call a voice, My mother wept to me: My son, my beloved son, I never thought this possible I’ll follow you on foot. Halfway in mud and slush the microphones picked up. It was raining on the houses; It was snowing on the police-cars. The astronauts were weeping, Going neither up nor out. And my own mother was brave enough she looked And it was alright I was dead.