Past Death...

I did not know her, here laid out,

a careful combing of the hair

not as I’d known it set before -

forehead laid bare, cleared silver strands;

not of my choosing, frame beside.

But father told he wanted this,

a final farewell to his wife,

though he knew, as did I, full-well,

she long had left; this trolley bare,

enforced that spirit flown the room.

By absence seeping beads drawn down -

the knowledge that we paused alone,

skeletal cage deserted now.

And since, the question posed myself -

should I dissuade through queries raised?

Poor memory’s now fixed in place -

this mask should not replace her face;

some say dread visit reinforced,

that shock fires mould of empty clay -

unnecessary proof for me.

For him, for his, I dare not say;

the sixty years entitle him

to linger, lose, yet loose again

the bond and knots that tied them close.

And sons accompany past death.

https://spillwords.com/past-death/