Wooden Womb

Wooden Womb

A Poem by MarilynT
"

Feelings at my Fathers funeral

"

I do not recall who was there
just that there were so many
the church was overflowing.
I sat there staring at the flag
that draped the closed wooden womb
where your body lay seperated
from the living, in my case the half living.
Father Becker, your favorite priest
delivered the funeral mass
in his gentle, comforting voice
no comfort did I find.
I could not grasp anything,
or anyone around me.
My heart, my mind, was up there
on the altar beneath the flag
inside the wooden womb with you.
 

© 2008 MarilynT


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Added on March 14, 2008

Author

MarilynT
MarilynT

Balch Springs, TX



About
Born in Dallas Texas in 1959 I was the middle of seven children.With only enough money to cover the basics of living we never went out for entertainment. My father who was 47 when I was born would tel.. more..

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