When my mother passed away and her funeral soon followed I mourned the loss of her.
|Dear Mother, I longed for your love;
so when you passed away I wept.
As your spirit rose up above
my stinging tears, which were inept,
flowed as we began to remove
your cold, silent corpse as it slept.
Days passed. They gathered for your wake,
a soothing time that was not sad
or grave as they tried for my sake
to pay their respects and act glad:
as you laid there (to never take
a breath again), I could’ve gone mad.
The hour arrived. The funeral
took place on a cold, wintry morn
as if dream-like, strange and surreal.
Distraught, I felt bereaved and torn
as your last rites and burial
left me forlorn—oh so forlorn!