Dark Corners

Please don’t channel your mother

She’s not wanted here

At her sister’s funeral

We didn’t like her

Dead or alive

Please don’t channel your mother

Her spirit taints all it touches

Brings us down

Clouds our eulogies

Shows us where we come up short

Please don’t channel your mother

She speaks truth

Says things we don’t want to hear

Her presence sheds light into our dark corners

Please don’t channel your mother

Don’t let her out

Tell her to stay quiet

We do not wish to abandon our lies

©kcasady2014

White Hair

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