she sat in the pew,
lip between her teeth.
"what a way to end a year,"
she thought,
blue eyes closed to the world.
there were no wedding bells
in this church, not today.
they read eulogies instead
of vows and shed
tears rather than rice.
a funeral for the year.
many people gathering to
say goodbye to the good times
and the bad times.
tears, maybe even laughs,
for the year that ends itself.
time turns years into suicide
and funerals turn strangers
into desperate friends.
casket closed,
dressed in black,
what could you lose?
except everything.
no one knows what'll
happen when those doors open
and the sunshine floods in.
not knowing what the next
year will bring,
what people or conflicts.
if you'll even make it out alive.
the safest place you'll ever be
is the funeral for a year.
with everything closing,
just for a moment,
you know what to expect.
that's the beauty of finality.
all you know is that room,
death, and what finite tastes like.