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My Mother's Burial, A Remembrance
©19-DEC-2018, Olan L. Smith
Down to the depth comes the flesh of man,
Depressed to watch the descent of a mother
And dejected by all who live in the now,
Upon this train of essence in the crux
Of what is, what was, and what will be in this
Delusion of an allusion, upon God's illusion
Of random waves of light in a prison of despair.
Come mother of mine, mother of life whose essence
Is no more. Whose soul is now departed, separate
Of me, a corpse and no more. You are now a
Hollowness in the dank soil of earth, a flesh rotted
And bones that support decay of what was and is not.
Who sanctifies the dead? Who will pave the path
From life to death and gives passage to newness?
Is there another depot amid life and death? Are
There many routes to consciousness, a new life, a
Memory to a new you? Will you remember me, mother?
Will you touch my face, will I recognize you in your new soul?
I hope so, Mom. My heartache is real, and is desperate to create
Happiness where there is none. I long for you, I cry for
You, but I can't restore you, only the remembrance of this day.
A.N. I write this in honor of my mother's life, who was buried this day, twenty-eight years.
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Poetry"Write Upon My Stone" has turned into a collection of my poems about death, and other of my poems with dark themes. I will be adding to this collection with both new and older poems with those themes. Love, peace, and freedom. Olan L. Smith (aka...
