RIP

the bustle of Christmas dies

we lie below the moonstrung tree and by the hearth

the ruby coals sing songs of death

Grandma lies with silent eyes

the firelight piroettes on tiptoes, clings and tumbles down our cheek

and yellowed notes of time echo festivity

and tinkle in our dreams with uncles’ voices singing hymns

we lay our heads our souls to keep

we lay our heads to rest in peace

 

the pain of the room ebbs and crashes

she stands beside her dying mother and crdles her hand

her body leaps, hear heart drum beats again

Grandma lies with dying eyes

the plastic tube drowns the last whispers, clings and tumbles down her cheek

and life reveals death’s indecency

where sheets expose her body, naked, shorn of dignity

she shuts her mother’s eyes her soul to keep

she lays her mother’s head to rest in peace

 

the eyes are filled with last goodbyes

they stand before their mother and sing her last request

her face emotionless in death

Grandma lies with silent eyes

the bathroom hides my grief, which clings and tumbles down my cheek

her house is full again

for I meet her in my dreams with uncles’ voices singing hymns

we lay her down her soul to keep

we lay her down to rest in peace

2 thoughts on “RIP

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