FUNERAL.

I could hear the rush of deep traffic

skimming the dead rain of wet road,

a dithering opening of cloud

as bare snlight treaded through.

I heard the scattering beat of wild horses

across luscious lawn of youth,

their frosty breaths stranded

between earth and this desolat heaven.

I see the mid-Summer mourners gather

in car parks of quiet semblance,

dressed in stairway black suits and blouses

propped up smiles with wash-away tears of grief.

I could hear the caustic muttering

spreading through a crowd of distant relations,

at a life they had only glimpsed at from

the stage-door of death’s final act.

I heard different views on well told stories

as awkward laughter eased everyones’s grief,

I smelt the yellow celandines and violet roses

laid out in dull sunlight like a after show of life and loss.

MJ DUGGAN.  

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