funerals
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The funeral is quiet with the exception of muffled sobs,
Murmured prayers, and a mournful violin.
A sea of black cloth surrounds the casket,
in the movies,
everyone’s grave is bloated with flowers
mounds and mounds of vivid, vibrant petals
scream memorials
innocent, gorgeous, precious victims
sweet grandmas or strong mothers
a face powdered with the tan dust that covers thick,
removing all lines and any last glimpse of life or being,
transforming to a body, a deadweight, there for last goodbyes.
how do you say goodbye if it doesn't remind you,
I don’t want to die
Not for the pain, but for the loss
I don’t want my absence to leave a gap in the cosmic fabric
I don’t want my family to leave flowers at a marble cross
I don’t want to die
Blue foil floating with helium
A bloated star
Stark against the snow,
Given to a young boy by adoring parents
With whom he’d spent long hours.
Talked. Laughed. Played.
I am the sparkle on the new fallen snow,
I am the glittering snowflakes falling gracefully to the ground,
I am the icy cave sheltering the hibernating black bear,
I am the glistening pine trees covered with snow,
There are explanations.
Explanations that God keeps tucked away in a little box,
In the corner of his office.
He doesn’t even know what he wants to do with them.
