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Coming Home from the Funeral of My Father
by Maja Trochimczyk

I.

How shallow the grave
How sparse the flowers on the cement
How cold dead fingers
Never to move again

How empty the home,
Empty eyes, empty heart
Devoid of life

We'll sing death away
We'll frighten it with incense,
We'll keep our memories
With utmost care
Blocking the heartbeat
Of agony
Fluttering bird
From the ribcage
Flies away into stillness

II.

Pain trickles down
The solid rock of my sorrow

Until there is nothing
Left to hurt – a void
Before another outpouring

Tears don't wash away
The dust of sadness
They come and go
Like summer rains
Not refreshing
In the stale heat
Of despair
 

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