The departed spends her first night in her grave
Tucked in by relatives and friends
Each tossing three shovelfuls of dirt upon her coffin
A gesture of pure kindness
One for which there can be no repayment
While the white hairs stood and watched
Too old to lift even the tiniest bits of soil
Imagining their dead compatriot listening from within her eternal cocoon
Watching for her hovering soul
Waiting for it to fly free
All the while counting the moments till their turn
Wondering by whose hands their graves will be filled
©kcasady2024
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