The siblings sit next to a flowered casket now

And the rest all stand behind

Them under a beige canopy.

The sun hurts watered eyes and is too

Oppressive, uninviting and joyous for the mood.

The silence of the mourners respects

The priest’s trite words

That are too simple a conclusion to someone that is loved,

But they suffice

For all his followers

That know this is only

The beginning.

And the cliché comes:

We should feel

No sorrow,

For this man

Will live on

Eternally

In the kingdom of

The Lord.

I’ve heard this before, in a movie

And a thousand miles away in another cemetery

With the same green grass, blue sky, bright sun, and downcast eyes.

I brought Kleenexes to the funeral for once,

But I kept myself bottled in the church.

I carried the casket, a position where weeping is not allowed,

But now I stand in the corner

With a thousand white, perky petals

Brushing my black pants and with salt on my lips.

So why cry?

They’re all too caring—

Thinking of others’ pain

Is cause enough for grief and

Too many minutes spent

With this body

Before reminds them of the reasons

He will rise

To heaven,

But when this man’s will is being spread

To his family

The sadness is replaced anyway.

Last night was the celebration of life,

Today is the negligence of death.

People act like it’s a surprise.

The silver screen tricks us,

Flaunting life’s blossoms and

Disregarding life’s doom.

Even the saddest films end after two hours.

So we’re lucky that

There’s other shows to be seen

To replace the darkness

With flashing lights and

Glittering smiles.

--------------------------------------

Now the service is over and

People congregate in cliques

Or walk up to the dead

For a moment of self-righteous forgetting

And remembering.

I put my sunglasses on and

Walk a block

Along the paved road

Until the cars and the body are at my back.

I’m not even sure if I’m thinking of anything

But the tears spitefully spill out of my eyes.

He’s not going to heaven!

Those dumb bastards don’t know the truth.

All he will ever do is have what he did.

He’s darkness, and

There’s no light or friendly nudge that will wake him from it.

I cannot stop crying and I feel like

I’m a kid

That dropped my ice cream on the floor;

All of the anticipation

Of getting that ice cream on my cone,

All of the sensations on my tongue

That were craved for

Were diminished.

They all cry for each other,

For themselves,

For the man that has no feeling to share;

I cry because of the meaning.