THE COFFIN COMES.

A WOMAN AT HER BABY'S FUNERAL.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here the coffin comes.
Small and white. Being
Lifted out of the

 

Black Hurst by one man
Holding the two brass
Handles, walking first.

 

All heads are turned; some
Faces are on you,
But you do not see,

 

You only see the
Coffin and the small
Bouquet of flowers

 

Lying on top of
The white lid. The man
Walks slowly, grim faced,

 

As if carrying
A small gift; a gift
To be returned (such

 

A crime to return
It before its time).
You keep the coffin

 

In your sight, not for
One moment does it
Leave your eye’s hold, your

 

Mind’s grasp. All heads turn
To the front, where the
Priest stands by the font.

 

He looks too young to
Understand grief, the
Biting hold, the deep

 

Gripping ache, the dark
Dumbfounded ness that
Sits within, the blank

 

Empty hole where your
Beating heart should be.
An organ plays, a

 

Cacophony of
Voices begin to
Sing, but the words of

 

The sung hymn seem too
Heavy, too solid
To comprehend this

 

Deep grief you feel, this
Your baby’s end. You
Remember the last

 

Hold, the final gaze,
The concluding kiss.
Your baby’s there, tucked

 

Up in the coffin’s
Hold. The simpleness,
The whiteness, the small

 

Compactness of all
You ever wanted
Wrapped and boxed. Numbness.

 

The chill from the air
Is hanging there. The
Pulsating pain now

 

Tightens. Your eyes hold
The small gift soon to
Be taken. To some

 

Just another day,
Another time, all
Else, all others go

 

Their way, the world moves
On like nothing’s wrong.
But this is the day,

 

Branded in your brain,
Mind and memory,
Never once to be

 

Forgotten, never
Ever far away.

Reviews

[Irwin]

Never ends Terry, lovely poem.

[Terry Collett]

I wrote this a while ago, but losing Ole recently brought the emotions back home. Thank you,Irwin.

[Coyote Poetry]

Yes poem tell a sad story. When we lose a baby or child leave us sad till death. Last year Sister lost her 9 year old baby girl. The pain was terrible and there are no words to describe the suffering. A powerful poem. Thank you.
Coyote