I don’t want to see him
I’m not strong enough
To gaze into the casket

But they tell me I must.

My throat is tight
Like coiled springs
Legs shudder under
My black dress.

I see him.

Why does this waxen, lifeless manikin
Look like him?
And yet not like him?

Hot tears hover in my aching gaze
Threatening to boil over
Down my flushed cheeks.

And finally … they do.

The hot drips
Spiral me into emptiness.

It's hard to imagine God has
A plan, a purpose in this
But my mind tries to convince me anyway.
It will be long before heart
And soul can follow.

This poem is part of my April Poetry Challenge. In honor of National Poetry Month this year, I'm writing lots of poetry and posting a new poem every day in April! Read more of my poetry here.


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