Can you feel my greif
Wooden Womb
I do not recall who was there
just that there were so many
the church was overflowing.
I sat there staring at the flag
that draped the closed wooden womb
where your body lay seperated
from the living, in my case the half living.
Father Becker, your favorite priest
delivered the funeral mass
in his gentle, comforting voice
no comfort did I find.
I could not grasp anything,
or anyone around me.
My heart, my mind, was up there
on the altar beneath the flag
inside the wooden womb with you.
2007-10-24
05:09:23
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5 answers
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asked by
Marilyn T
3
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry