Poem: “The Funeral”
The Funeral
begins with the birth-date of skin,
color, gender,
bruising
caused by delivery
into your particular place or family.
No one knows what you now feel.
No relative totally relates. No
medical force utterly understands
the length of your life,
your foot, your hand,
or other wonderments
with which you now
begin.
As soon as you can,
investigate
your surroundings and yourself.
See. Sense. Experience.
Untie the intolerable tightness
of your interment, and
come forth
come forth
into the next unknown.
Mary Harwell Sayler