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Monday, December 22, 2008

After the Funeral

Funeral Flowers


In mind, but out of sight,
we have become like a picture
turned to the wall,
or like words
better left unsaid,
or rotting
like the unburied dead.


You are in a place
I cannot follow,
so, today I've decided
to bury you.


With my bare hands
I'll fill your grave
and my soul
with another's earth.

Bodies hollowed out
in this dark hearth,
I'll burn now
with another's flame.

There is no shame,
to clear the wreckage,
to minimise the damage done.

With such losses
no one has won,
but the dream goes on
for death is no thief
of fools gold.


Your grave might be
one visted often,
but memory will grow old
and my stays will be brief.

Like the rain in summer,
or snow over sea,
or tears for the burial,
after the funeral
you will be gone from me.


I know uncertainty
will join to mourn with me,
I know that a part of me
will be gone too,
but only a part,

for even in the final aspects
if love comes to pay its respects
I'll find the strength
to walk away,

the rest of me will move on,
for outside of your grave
I have dug
another day.

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