Lonely Funeral #43

This is part of a poem written by Kees ´t Hart, for mister P.H. van der V., who was found at his home two months after he passed away:

Man, window washer, cleaner and bricklayer
Yesterday, I visited you in The Hague
And I stood still for a while
By your house

Life is a mystery, whoever invented that is mad
It´s a thing, a word, a voice, a flat
Where silence buzzes amongst birds in summer
And the garbage gets taken out on Tuesday evening

In my home city The Hague, more and more people live in isolation - despite the city  growing in its size of population. People who pass away without any friends or family around them get buried by the council during so-called technical funerals in anonymous graves. I came across a group of poets who write poems for for these lone people and cite them during their funeral, providing them with dignity that they might have missed whilst being alive.


Man, glazenwasser, schoonmaker en metselaar
In Den Haag ik ben gisteren bij u langs gegaan
En bij uw huis heb ik nog een tijdje stil gestaan

Leven is een raadsel, wie dat bedacht is gek
Het is een ding een woord een stem een flat
Waar stilte in de zomer tussen vogels zoemt
En dinsdagavond de vuilnis buiten wordt gezet

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