Walking down the pale blue corridor
Framed doors line the sides, knowing what lies behind
Each door has two buttons, one light, enter or exit

Old victorian furniture, flickering candle light
seems to light the walls, the last door on the left
open waiting my arrival

A lump forms in my throat, my eyes water uncontrollably,
trembling as I gasp for a normal breath
Family look and talk to me ,here nor do I see them

At first, I only dare to see the flowers on the gray casket
my heart races
The bangs on top of her forhead every hair in place
Catholic cross, collar lace, her body out of context
to her personality and soul for those living in the world of their make-believe

They made her into what they needed her to be
to absolve them from any wrongdoing,
her family never understood her
They paid their final respects with hidden emotions of
guilt and shame

I reminisced  of a childhood adventure
implicated
concluded with a smile
Strange what I chose to remember
In the mist of my sorrow

Overwhelming  bewilderment
places left unseen ,words left unsaid  
Funerals are for the living not the dead
through moments like these
one finds inner strength
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