To Answer Your Question, Emily Dickinson:
There is nothing after death.
Death is neither winged nor specter,
neither kind nor patient.
Death is an old man in a business suit
keeping his shareholders happy,
whoever they are; he does not know.
We do not know.
In his wake there is only silence,
neither peaceful nor tormented.
Transaction complete. You
were only another exchange.
This isn’t to say that Life
is hostile, nor that it is
benevolent. It’s only to say
that Life does not give a shit
about what’s fair. Corporations
do not give a shit
about what’s fair.
And what comes after? Loved ones
longing. There’s a reason bargaining
is a stage of Grief. In all your post-
mortem fanmail, Emily,
didn’t anyone ever write to you
to tell you of God’s refusal