Cold January Mourning

CuLT

I attended a funeral for the first time last week, worse, it was a friend who had passed away.
I write this, dedicated to his memory and to his, and my, other friends.

---

Cold January Mourning

The piercing numbness of the cold,
Whips at my face along the street,
We filter slow to Central Bank,
Dressed in what we found was black,
A brisk hike to Pierce Street station,
See the others, solemnly waiting,
Silently we board the train,
But naturally we poke and joke,
A vigil is hard to maintain,
Cloying grief brings too much pain.

In ones and twos after the DART,
We march through the town of Blackrock,
The church is packed with old and young,
The family held together strong,
We celebrate his life, not death,
My friend, he chokes and tries to speak,
His speech a train, derailéd, weak.

The cemetery is bright and cold,
Beside the sea and mountains old,
We watch the box slowly descend,
Now it is all at its end.
-

BEAT

I am sorry for your loss Cult. Such experiences have triggered many famous works from the poets of old. It can be a sort of therapy for you, to write through your emotions.
I like how you put it together. I've written many things through heartache and dispair, it does help you to release and move on.

Skud

I agree. Went through same ordeal not too long ago...


Very profound. I like it.

CuLT

I'm sorry I didn't reply sooner.

Thank you both. .

McGinty

I'm sorry for your loss, thank you for sharing your poem with us, like the others, I liked it too.

Hardy

CuLT, not much more that I can say that the others didn't. I'm sorry for your loss and I really liked the poem. It was very poignant and made me think of a recent funeral. I'd love to be able to put thoughts into words like that. Good job.

DriftingRain

*Gives CuLT a huggle*

Great poem!


~DR~