My uncle Henry's funeral
Was on a Sunday afternoon,
Of deepen’d sky's updrafting clouds
With everybody standing 'round
A casket of mahogany
That glisten’d in a patchwork light.
I kept my eyes upon the sight
Till lowered deep into our fate.
He was her third, he always felt
Responsible, his mother's death.
An awful punishment & weight
To think he'd taken her away.
And in his lifetime never knew
The three days that she held him to,
To nurse him, and then sank to earth
So soon after she'd given birth.
I reached out for my hand to place
On edge of polished coffin's face,
And leaning forward, softest call:
"Your mother will explain it all."
My mind a blank the long trip home,
And when I could, I sat alone
Recalling all the jokes and pranks
The fam’ly told of Uncle Hank's
We celebrated at his wake,
The memories we shared with cake.
But now in kitchen where I kept
A silent vigil as I wept
While dialing, calling up his voice,
His message I'd repeat by choice.
To hear him from the afterlife
In hopes to listen one last time,
To quell my grief. No more was said
When service to the line went dead.
Copyright © Jade Pandora 2017-18. All Rights Reserved.
Written by Jade-Pandora
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