Wake me up,
I
must be caught in
a dream.

Great-grandmother,
aged 92,
she’s gone,
no more.

The funeral,
more than a
nightmare
Pictures
wedged into
the casket,
two bibles,
and
water, water,
like she had
begged
for two nights
before she passed.

Your youngest
living daughter
wanted
her family keepsakes
to accompany you
to the other side,
nothing more.

If her fingers
even brushed the casket,
I
vowed to
unleash hell,
a fight like
no other,
Had she no
respect
for the dead?

Eight grandchildren,
fourteen great-grandchildren,
five
great-great grandchildren,
weeping
for what had been
lost.

The burial,
first time
I
saw my father in a suit,
a pallbearer,
I grasped
for the pink rose
in my lap
drenched
in tears
It was
all I had left of
you.

I
wanted to
close my eyes
and this be all a
dream.

It wasn’t.

I
lay the rose
on your casket
like an island
in a vast sea
of mourning.

I
am now
broken like
shards of
glass,
a girl
left with
nothing,
not enough
love.

Nothing.