Eulogistic Rituals

It’s not how she imagined
it. Pale, tear-tracked
faces scowling at the
misting rain, a conspicuous
mound of earth, muddied,
near a deep hole of
nothingness, surrounded
by a silent chorus of
cold epitaphs etched in
stone…and weary
hopeless words, fancy
with accolades…words her
ears longed to hear once
upon a lifetime, reserved
now for a handful of black-
clad witnesses, who
listened, nodding, as if
they needed reminding. No,
this was not how she would
have ended things, making
peace with the unfinished
chapters, pages forever
left unturned, the
final page given much
more attention than
it was due.

If she had planned this
sad suarez it would have
been set in a field of
wildflowers near a bubbly
stream on a sun
shiny day with string
music and flowers…and
fruit pies, ice cream and
chocolate fountains…dogs,
cats and song birds and
helium-filled balloons
with rainbow-ribboned
tails. As for words…
no words…
simple knowing smiles
and laughter would
suffice. There would be
hugs, long full-frontal
hugging and kisses for
those so inclined. The
dress code would be
flowing shades of
fuchsia and yellow and
turquoise…green and
azure blue…no black
allowed. There would be
no cold dark
holes of unsettled
earth to bury tears or
lifeless roses and stiff
remains…no…a simple
ziplock bag of dust to
be tossed to the
wind, with a handful
reserved to set
sail on the sparkling
rivulets of stream
water nearby. If she
had planned it, this
is how it would have
been….a celebration
of love and life
full spent.

kat 2015

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