-- The Day of the Burial -–

John Herlihy

The day of the burial was somber, dark,

In the overhead clouds, a solitary lark.

Her body carried to the grave, so foreign,

Her final tribute to day, to sky, so solemn.

Her body at the wake was folded down,

She looked like a lily before it opens up.

Now wrapped, a mummy, neat and tight,

There wasn’t much left of her, just flight.

Perpetual twilight unbroken by the sun,

Memories shrouded, from sorrow spun.

The damask cloth would never be missed,

In final repose, peace, by eternity kissed.

Swarming bees, cicadas, a mockingbird,

A thicket of wild music there to be heard.

Soon the earth now covered, as if haunted,

The day somber as life, just as she wanted.

The cry of the bird like a knock on a door,

Wild laughter in her soul never felt before.

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(c) John Herlihy 13 December 2018