The funeral

by justme

Darkened cavalcade slow yet fast, streams the streets of living past
Turns the bends of childhood days
While sweeping clouds and coloured greys
Once spent with smiling innocence
When dreams looked out and made such sense
Landmarks still and stubborn dress
Mark the time, when hours, no press
When running was, just for fun, and every memory, always the sun.

Mumbling men in funeral black, step within a drizzling haze
Black knee length coats
Bought for just, such days
From hearse to tail tiered by love
From deepest hurt, to respecting shove.
It’s reached the church as road runs out,
Life in the distance, seems to roar and shout

Flailing, weeping child pulls and twangs even a heart of stone
As gazers drain each tear and sob, as the closest cling to him, alone.
Just to have one second more, to say,
I have loved you always and not just this day.
Why should they dress and move accord the man
Who whispers instruction for all to follow, his plan.

Sweet silence descends the pious place, as some just hold, pious
a memoried face
Which even now, begins to slip,
Amongst crumbling tissues and sibling grip
Angels sing, and then some people talk,
The priest address, the undertakers stalk

Still the closest, talk just to him
Welling sadness soon to reach the brim.

Slowly lowered one side too high
A single rose and a wish to die. A fathers gone,
Nothing anyone can do.
a mother and daughter and a bond so true.

A loving husband and father, underneath a hill of clay
Struggled all his life
Just to be here,

Credits: poem @justme; Image@ CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved

Fly her home

by justme

And so it is, the tears of man
Chrystal clear before time began
Touch the timeless of courser skin
Made not by her but as time begin.
Hollow eyes, magic drops, saddened he, and time it stops
Grey dried hair, the timeless still, daunted moment, only itself can fill.
Whispering air calls a breath, from babe to woman and now to death.
Stillness fills an unfulfillable time, a woman ends an endless rhyme
Silence fills an aching heart, timeless pain, nowhere to start.
Sinking bodies cry alone,
Gods angels call
Then they fly her home

Credits: Writing: ©justme; Image@ CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved

The cross

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By Justme

Scarlet red explodes then gently trickles descending the veined banks of weary clasping hands.
Clinging to his swollen throbbing feet.
Her mother tears drip and wash but cannot clean or clear the overflowing red
as his body drains upon her hands.
Smoothing skin stems the flow, to push life backwards, gently gentle for what life is left is precious still, to her, for him, her son.
A kneeling muddy mess, clotted hair bound by sweat and blood and tears.
Built upon a memory of her boy who became a man, not yet forty years.

A single tear, drops from him, to her.
A million years of love, with the fullness of a billion stars and space and time.
A woman cries to the heavens,
Universe, replace this woman, for this child of mine!

No voice returns the call, for heaven sleeps, while rivers roar
No hand of man or earth or heaven can sooth this daggered heart
Softly, simply the breeze of life licks her hair
Gently, easy, quietly, the soul of son slips the cross.
With crisscross sandals submerged within a muddy messy place.
She closed her eyes, this woman, this mother
And then an angel,
kissed her face.

Read by the author
Credits: Poem © Justme; Images © Michaela (churchyard Niedersulz)