The casket rolls by, far up ahead
and chorister's choirs sing the dead
to rest.
Those who are left behind, left awake,
to find solace on Earth within another.
Far from their mother,
brother,
sister,
lover or
other.
They're left to suffer above the ground,
fruitlessly searching for the sound of
a heartbeat,
a whisper,
a sign,
that once more they might wipe off
the grime of dirt and earth,
watch a rebirth,
feel a kiss,
a hug
a brief second of love
again from the person they
have left.
The death that has left them bereft
of everything.
"Without them, there is nothing."
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 9:43 AM UTC
The casket rolls by, far up ahead
and chorister's choirs sing the dead
to rest.
Those who are left behind, left awake,
to find solace on Earth within another.
Far from their mother,
brother,
sister,
lover or
other.
They're left to suffer above the ground,
fruitlessly searching for the sound of
a heartbeat,
a whisper,
a sign,
that once more they might wipe off
the grime of dirt and earth,
watch a rebirth,
feel a kiss,
a hug
a brief second of love
again from the person they
have left.
The death that has left them bereft
of everything.
"Without them, there is nothing."
Feels half formed, will try editing soon.
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