Poem -
funeral
See her lying there
Still as stone
Her pale face
No longer her own
Close the lid
She disappears
Then comes the pain
And silent tears
Place the coffin
In the ground
Cover with dirt
And not a sound
Pray for her
And leave a flower
Then sit and stare
Hour after hour
The grave now covered
With patches of grass
Your heart now shattered
To pieces of glass
You'll always come
To look at the stone
A granite reminder
That you are alone
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Comments
great poem I hope you read mine the oak tree in the cemetery
This is one of many incisive observations, in this piece, on the cold simple reality of death. That same reality, around which we have built so much ritual in an attempt to avoid or gloss over...as morticians become beauticians and coffins become mere beds.
I'd say that this is beautiful...but it steps behind the false beauty to look at the cold 'granite'.
J ;)