funeral blues

 




i watch them
harvesting words
black veils, no sound

beads dangle
from their necks
singular silver
crucifixes,

old blood
useen for years
caved faces,
twisted in

worn books
broken hymns
singing inside
cold spaces,

hard faces
stare in disgust
deaf ears, stiff collars

the young
bow their heads
unseen and
unheard,

we dream
better things
like she did
unspoken

returning
back to
earth,

no tears
to draw
here.