The Wake I'm mourning The suffocation of a spirit A senseless end I'm standing here in the funeral home to pay my final respects to the deceased The room is oppressively hot and dry And the only sound I hear is a fly buzzing on the windowsill Otherwise, I stand in silence and The perpetual stillness is driving me mad As I venture deeper into the room It slowly dawns on me that the wake is my own And there is no one here but me I gaze abstractly at my pale, dead face for a moment Then gently place a flower in my lifeless hand and kiss my lips a final goodnight My shallow eyes mist over with tears and The multiplicity of my sins and sorrows suddenly overwhelm my darkened heart I run outside to catch my breath and A question keeps lingering in my mind like Patches of frost gathering in the long-shadows on cold quiet mornings What folly has sickened my soul so? I only wished to be loved

Copyright 2000 - M.D. Burke