deepundergroundpoetry.com

Grief Isnít Always Complicated

Your face had a look of true  
peace, but your hands  
betrayed Death,  
with their bloodless, loose skin.  
 
Just days earlier you were talking  
about hearing  angels sing,
and I wondered what it sounded like
 
I will never forget that open room,
the odd smell, my six-year-old,
curious about what an empty  
body looked like, nearly pulling
 
the casket off the stand trying  
to get a better look. My heart  
stopped, and as I moved
to snatch her up, I heard you say:
 
Leave that baby alone,  
sheís not hurtiní nothin.

 
I smiled a little as I moved  
her away from curiosities she could  
not fully understand.  
 
Your spirit was on to other things,
but you lingered in my heart: clinging
to my best memories.
Written by Eerie
Published | Edited 29th Jan 2023
Author's Note
For DanielChristensenís comp, ďFuneral: The Last RitesĒ.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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