Funereal

Families rejecting the roles they once played.
Alone, they each stand o'er the new dug grave.
Casket hanging in the air
on straps too green to be aware.
Family members - strangers gathering.
There, beneath the cold of falling rain.
A mother and a daughter, holding on
to one another. Sons lost somewhere else
within a growing travesty of time that
outstripped all the tears. That sense of ours,
once shining bright, now seemed to be
the greatest sacrifice.

Essentially unnecessary.
Grief displaced in stone cold looks
upon their weary faces.
She'd left us so much more
than just the anger that they
chose to hide behind.
Her spirit roaming, bringing
dreams. Too many of them
moaned within their sleep.
Refusing to remember all
the streams of tenderness
she'd sent to them.

Grief misplaced.
Their anger and derision
held no grace, nor sanity.
The poet could not write it out
in streams of some great need.
For they'd left it all in doubt.
Substantiating death into another
lonely feel of endless pain.
Even the rain could not relieve
the tears they held so deep inside.

As yet again, they chose to let it slide -
the loving ways she'd taught them
that they'd learned to just deny.
Her family had been spent in
growing cycles of dismay. Resulting
from the awful, endless games
they chose to play. The rain
was cold. The wind uprooting.
A sense of peace would not be
found around her grave that day.

For she had left this world fighting
for the best. Waiting for her loved ones
to arrive and then confess the love
they'd always felt for her, there in reserve.
Too many, all the years, and much too long,
the disappointment. She'd shed so many tears,
that all her oceans had run dry. If only they
had ever taken time to just explain - the reasons
they abandoned her in awesome pain.

Waiting, ever waiting, for divinity to shed
the light of its compassion upon her - there,
within her pain-filled heart. Instead, the ones
she loved the most, just shook their heads
as if she had gone crazy. She - who ever
cared and nurtured them. It never was
her job to make amends. For it was they
who in the end, had failed her. The ashes
stirred, and all at once, she was set free
of all the limitations of mortality.

Funereal, the implications.
Generations passing on.
Changed, yet still the same.
As all her young must now
become the oldest in their turn.
But then, ignoring all their cries,
she said goodbye...

? Michaelette ?

7/10/2004
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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