The Pallbearer Poem by Saju Abraham

It was a time we were full of life.
I recall our take on death.
I was one of the parish pallbearers.
Pallbearers then was a paid service;
The bereaved family paid for them.

Death knell normally unnerves most;
It’s no happy tide to say the least.
But my friends and I eagerly awaited it;
The slow resounding toll of death!
We’d rush to register for the day’s work;
We rushed lest we missed the mere two pence.

How strange it meant things different!
Heart wrenching for the bereaved,
And heartening for the pallbearers.
Death witnessed so stoically at that age!