The Funeral
MRW
So this is what she spoke to us of grief:
This gnawing in the center of my soul
This knowledge that I never shall be whole
This darkness that I used to call belief.
I knew, in abstract, of the loss of life,
And of the silence slipping 'cross a face.
I'd read and heard of how this timeless race
Could be cut short with such a little knife.
But here she lies, and here I stand, amazed,
That one so filled with light could now go dim
That such a soul could lie here, pale and slim,
As we, her children, set her corpse ablaze.
There is no words to tell me this is real.
There are no words to tell you what I feel. (
geocities.com/soho)