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Funeral Arrangements (2020)

So many around her,
Clawing at the ground,
Conversing with those six feet down,
Grabbing at fresh dirt,
And there she is,
Grimy, sweaty, crying.

At times she has a cold focus,
Eyes locked on the torn ground,
On all sides, she’s surrounded,
By preachers, clairvoyants, salesmen,
Screaming at her to come their way,
She just wants to find her boy.

Others turn to seek counsel,
But she doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t budge,
Some are clutching the cross
Others are clutching the bottle,
All she carries is dirt under her fingernails,
As she tears up the new plot.

Her desperate, wet eyes hope to see,
A lost son’s loving eyes peer back,
Down and down she goes,
Watering the dirt below her,
She digs till she can’t come back,
And disappears into the cold earth forever,
Looking for the one long gone.

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