Dead

I have visited the family of the dead.

If it weren’t for the dead, I wouldn’t have come.

I considered them dead a long time ago.

I stopped thinking.

I stopped caring because they are dead.

Traditions.

Culture.

They made me do it. 

I am not quite myself but it is for the sake of the dead.

I have been dead too.

Stabbed a couple of times. Stricken at the back. 

Letting myself fall without anyone to catch me.

It hit me hard.

I died.

I forgot that I died.

Worse, I forgot that I once lived. 

I considered myself dead. My heart beating but not giving life.

I look to my right and I saw a ray of white light trying to give me life.

Should I accept it and live again?