White summer
Where stillness engulfs the spirit
Of a mother, with her eyes
Nailed to the lids,
As a casket
Nails her form to the earth.

Weeping was all the world
Could release,
Of rain, silver in its puddles
Formed at the feet
Of those who dulled their sorrow
In bleakest disbelief.

The kindness
Outstretched, from arms
That yet trembled,
Laid there, upon shoulders
As if waiting for water
To be tasted from their eyes.

A funeral of much to gather,
With much to release.
Raindrops, centered on the closing stare
Of families whose hearts
Have yet to dare
To fit their lives with the ongoing.

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