deepundergroundpoetry.com

HIS FUNERAL SONG

my fire
is burnt
low
and blue,
meager
'gainst this
creepin' cold
and my spark
is cool as ash,
its light
filtered through
these clouds
and all my
whispered prayers
and incantations
are mist and fog
'gainst this
what cannot be
deflected

and her,
jus' one more
in the ground --
my brother, my mama,
and now my sweet girl
and then it's just
 ol' me' standin'
with suit pants baggin'
and knees worn
and jacket and tie
like i'm dressed for it
already
Written by javalini
Published
Author's Note
No deaths, thank goodness, in my family right now, but I see it often where I work. My father in law is declining at age 83. I'm a bit of a codger myself, so I think about it more often than I used to.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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