The Funeral
I stand at the doors of the funeral room afraid,
afraid- of how I am going to get through this day;
knowing the end was coming did not prepare me mother,
no one is ever ready for a beloved's last gasp of life.
Inside the room, I gulp my sorrow and stand frozen,
the room glows with soft hues of many rose pink flowers;
in peace you lay with all the ravages of illness erased,
and inside your coffin you are wearing your rose pink dress.
I know this moment will be with me for the rest of my life,
just you and me alone- with the scent of roses wrapped around us;
oh, I am filled with emotions and my body feels like a heavy stone,
my heart is completely and totally shattered and forever broken.
There is nothing, I could have done to keep you alive,
because I would have- I feel hallow inside, lost and I hurt all over;
but you have always taught me to be strong and have courage,
so, I whisper- love you mommy and touch your cold folded hands.
And I kiss your lips with words just for us;
till I see you again mother . . . until then . . . g o o d b y e.
Then, I put on a smiling mask and greet your visitors . . .
______________________________
June 21, 2019
Poetry/Verse/The Funeral
Copyright Protected, ID 19- 1159-180-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2019
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