The Wake Poem by Sheena Blackhall
The Wake
Rating: ★5.0
In the wake of the funeral
Comes the disposal of goods
In a scale of one to ten
Which items did he cherish?
In a scale of one to ten
Who is going to cherish them now?
In the absence of will
To make a clean sweep of the past
An image, not wanted, lingers
A thistle curled over
Clenched in a black fist
A ringing phone
Calls in the night unanswered
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: death
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5/8/2024 9:17:34 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Calls of death are unanswered on the bed of funeral. But within deep sorrow still we accept the truth of life. Very amazing sharing! ...10