It Usually Rains at Funerals

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Mon, 25 Aug 2014
  • 3220 reads
12 comments
 
And so the organist plays Elgar’s Nimrod –
the Enigma Variations, and we all file, silently, 
outside into the sunshine... playing with mobile phones,
fiddling with the car keys in our pockets – staring at our shoes...
most of us not knowing anyone from Adam; it’s like that, 
on these new estates; you tend to keep yourself
to yourself. 
 
Word gets around though...especially when it’s bad news.
A tragedy, the next door neighbour – only twenty-five...twins, too. 
I’d only laid eyes on him once or twice. Mowing the lawn,
I was, and we’d exchanged a smile and a nod over the fence.
He commented it was mild...for the time of year. Nice chap
he’d seemed. Liver cancer; finished him off
in six weeks flat. 
 
Wouldn’t have come here, were it not for his wife asking me –
when I put the wheelie bin out last week.  Felt sorry for her,
poor lass.  She’d said they didn’t know many folk round here,
and she wasn’t sure how many would make it down –
from his side, anyway. Halifax they’d come from.
A career move, she’d called it.
 
 I’d planned to cut it short; just pay my respects, that
sort of thing.  Thought I might say something like
I had to get back to work – some wretched meeting
or another.  In the end I don’t...much as I want to be
anywhere but here, so I join the rest of the mourners 
for the customary wake in the village hall, 
but I needn’t have worried. 
 
Once the tea urn gets going, and the sandwiches 
and cakes, unveiled, sporting their lace doilies –
less embarrassing things to discuss than death. 
No longer the need to feel guilty about being alive
and there’s always the weather to turn to. Wet.
wet, wet this summer of ours.
 
Much harder to ignore the dower, grey church
on the hill, and the woman – still stands outside
looking at the sky, now a blameless blue, which, 
at its clearest, is the most empty – save, a wisp
of a moon, in mid afternoon, already pacing.
Certificate 12
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Spiritual
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by Geoff Smith on

Before I read this poem I just want to say how amazed I am by your prolificness (word?). The only reason I don't read everything you do is that I can't keep up! And even with that, the quality of what you do is so high!

For a tortoise like me it's awe inspiring.

I love this poem too (having read it). The transient human life and the relative permanence of stone. Such keenly observed detail, and such clarity.

You are amazing. I seem to be in a fawning frame of mind sorry.

P.S. I am not really a tortoise.

Thanks for reading. I am grateful for your time.

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, Jasper, and I'm relieved to hear you are indeed not a tortoise. Not that I have anything against them,

mindsmiley  quite the reverse. 

 

Your lovely comment is more than appreciated, and if prolificness isn't a word, it darned well ought to be!smiley

Tina

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

I can't place what you've revised here, but it's just as moving as I remember. My friend really admired it, can't recall if I told you but she got some affirmment from it, too, that it is fine to want to shoot people for just going home and leaving her with all that torture. Thank you for letting me share it back then, if I didn't say thanks before, and it's good to read it again.  

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

My thanks to you, Vera, and I am heartened  that it, in some small way, helped your friend.

All the best to her...and to you, of coursesmiley

Tina

 

Submitted by Bee on

'less embarrassing things to discuss than death.' This line stands out to me. Such a quick pace in this poem, as if glossing over the unwanted sight of grief. And then her desolation in the ordinaryness of weather. So moving and undramatically portrayed. Very much admired by me in recognition of such events.

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Bee, as usual, you got right to the heart of the matter with your words.  Thank you.

Tina

 

Submitted by Starfish Girl on

That last verse is just beautiful, sad but a little bit of hope, with the clearing of the sky, for the future.

Lindy

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Obliged to you, Lindy.  Thank you for reading, and for your thoughts, inspired, as ever.

Tina

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Reading this poem, it brought back memories for me.  It's always hard to know what to say at funerals, never knowing whether to be sad,  or to celebrate the dead person's life.

You brought all those feelings together Tina. 

A poingnant read that touches us all at some point in our lives.

Jenny.

 

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Good morning, Jenny, and thank you.  Your words ring so very true.

We have a sparkling morning hereabouts, and I hope it's the same for yousmiley

Tina

 

Submitted by Kilb50 on

Yes, I agree with Jenny & Lindy...poignant, effortlessly capturing familiar emotions, with an exceptional final stanza, Tina.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Hello there, Kilb.  Always good to hear from you.  

Thank you for commenting so positively on this.  Your thoughts, more than appreciated.

Tina