True to that Hope
Believing in God
was the only way to cope,
so they remained true to that hope,
a funeral home brimming with survivors,
the dead’s family and friends
were arrayed, sprayed,
at the center and edges of the room,
it was a sunny day,
but it felt so gloom,
prayers were whispered
in the dry heat of the crowded room,
a man in a dark suit
stood there,
thin as bones,
expressing his most heartfelt sorrow
in slow, measured tones,
trying to convince the mother,
that God was found,
his head titled down,
hands folded together at the waist,
the dead was with God,
joining him at a feast,
the man in the dark suit
was a parish priest,
trying to offer hope,
and doing his best,
standing over the woman
in the black dress
during her moments of stress,
not praying was her choice,
but God still heard her voice,
while the casket stood in the center,
dominate of course,
exerting a certain centripetal force.
© 2012 Frank Atanacio