I was there at my funeral
It wasn't has bad as the thought of it
Except for the soulful cries of my loved ones
And I am not talking about those who faked theirs
Pretending to be mourning my death
But in whose hearts a sound of joy leaps
It was just as I have always presumed while alive
That funerals aren't exactly for the dead
It's more of for the living
A sort of closure everyone craves
As they pick up handful lumps of sand
And send off the dead
Reaffirming the bitter truth
That one who once was
Is gone to the world beyond
A mix of sadness and comfort
Sadness that they wouldn't see again
But the comfort in the fact that a peaceful rest is nigh
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem