When I broke open

I remember everything
About the day
We said farewell to your earthly self.
It was bitterly cold, the church full with no heating.
My school skirt felt tight around the waist and the bench hard, bitter.
My view of the front was obscured by three vases of Saint Joseph lilies. They looked burdened with grief, like their stems had no will to stand.
Once the coffins arrived I felt like I had on too many layers, my ears felt hot and my mouth tasted metal.
I remember muffled crying and snotty noses being blown, tissues being passed around
(those rainbow ones – I held a stack of blue)
The lady in front of me had on too much of a cheap vanilla scent and kept trying to pin a stray hair back in place.
It was clear the minister did not know you and the more he spoke, the more I wished the organ would swallow him whole and spit out that ghastly yellow tie with diamonds on it.
No one sang in tune and never have I heard a sadder rendition of What a friend we have in Jesus
(I kept wondering where He was)
I remember thinking that life would never be the same again, that from now on time will be measured against this, the end in a wooden box
(with no warning)
And I now realise it is true:
On that day in June
I shed the innocence of childhood.

Copyright Hiraeth 2015
PAD Challenge Day 29:
For today’s prompt, write a what nobody knows poem. It’s easy to write a poem about what everybody already knows, though it may be difficult to write an interesting poem about such things. Still, use today’s prompt to explore things people may not know–secret stories, locations, and so on.

Advertisements