Click to hear  "Green Grass"

This poem is self-explanatory. My wonderful mother died May 14, 1999.
I miss her so much. I have lost myself, as if the person I was went
with her, and I no longer know who I am, nor where I belong

THEY BURIED HER TODAY

So softly, all the people prayed,
a church decayed and dim,
so quietly, the organ played,
a plaintive funeral hymn.

A box of highly polished wood
lined with silk and lace,
the coffin at the altar stood,
her final resting place.

And next the coffin was her child,
though now a woman grown,
a silent grief, raw, raging wild,
the only love she'd known.

The flowers filled the air with scent,
the candles flickered flame,
and suddenly the room was rent,
a voice called out a name.

Yet no one heard, and no one spoke,
and no one raised a head,
as scream in mind tried to evoke
an answer from the dead.

Then all the people made their way
past coffin now her bed,
and no one knew enough to pray,
for silent living dead.

It was this day they buried her,
and everybody came;
the priest said angels carried her,
and heaven scribed her name.

And quietly they said goodbye,
but no one even knew,
the woman-child who that day died
was buried with her, too.©

May 19, 1999
Ruth A. Curl

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