Head of the Table

Your grandparents die
    And your children are born;
Then your parents die
    Then grandchildren are born;
And you move one more seat
    Round the mad table
To the head of the table,
    At which point you’re expected to go.

As when the crow came
    Wild, not tame - all the same
It cawed you the news
    That confirmed death and time;
So when your time comes
    And you feel in your bones
That the body is over
    Where will you, the guest, go?

Then bring food and drink!
    Glasses clink! Glance and wink
As you move to the brink
    Of eternity.
Who knows what follows next?

    “Afterlife” is absurd –

But then all life’s absurd –
    We just know, when it’s time, that we go.

Robin Helweg-Larsen

If you have any comments on this poem, Robin Helweg-Larsen would be pleased to hear from you.