The Day of My Funeral
My willingness to move, that day,
Frightened me
As still as a log I lay
While they all surrounded me, to see,
What was wrong? Why was I so complying?
For years they had tried to hold
My free spirit, my free soul
But never had they succeeded to mold,
My body in the shape of their wodden coffins
But today I could see, tears of joy
Roll down their fair face
As they lift me and place my carcass
In that wooden case.
They nail down the lid tightly
Lest I should again escape
Then throw me down the deep deep hole
And turn back to go away
Lying beneath the layers of sand
That they had piled upon me
Mother! Mother! I cry
In one monotonous tone
Mother! Mother! I shout
My skin turning to bone
But even she doesn't look back
She who knows I'm so afraid to be alone.
Copyright © Sheryl Jacob | Year Posted 2017
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