a child said

a child said that we
should open a window 
so that his soul
could get to heaven.

his hands were folded
over his stomach.

we smiled faintly at the child.
we knew better.
the child insisted; we told him
that his soul was already safe.

his face was painted a shade 
i had never seen before.

Someone whispered about tragedy,
a life stolen in its prime,
someone else, about being
in a better, better place.

his suit was wrinkle-free.
his box was polished oak.

salvation lies somewhere else
than this life. people know,
but don't believe, that there is no soul
for heaven to keep.