Funeral procession

There’s a prayer that I say that always brings me closer.
Closer to you, though we’re miles apart.
The shadows of death stalk us, licking at our flesh; threatening to spirit us away to nothingness.
Sky shifts and heaven shines. Leading the way forward.
Yet I cannot let go, and you pull me towards the light.
The choir sings and the eyes stare, whispering quiet goodbyes and long buried secrets.
Why do you take me with you? Faith fits me, not you. Not us.
I’m not ready to believe. I’m not prepared for the finality.
Do I know this from somewhere?
I look into your eyes and your halo blinds me. You let go.
All I can smell is turned soil and coffin wood.
Each nail drives its way home as the feet trundle away, descended the mountain I forced them to climb.
Quietness hangs after much searching. These souls shuffle back into the everyday, forgetting where I lie.
Forgetting that I lied.
Making me a saint in their own afterlives. Travelled finally down my own road.


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