Burial Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Burial
Churchbells remind me
to this day
of innocence and home.
I hurried now to reach
the ancient rust
and eerie squeak
of what you'd call
a sacred portal.
Townfolk had filled
the chapel room,
it was the final stop
for all, though not today.
Framed by the rustling
of proud growing junipers,
forbidding walls
relieved by shades
of purple velvet
over hand-blown glass.
It would provide
the quick escape
for any soul that had,
now been recalled.
An act of God, they'd say,
and somber nods
like reassuring waves
hung from the rafters,
rough-hewn oak,
a single ribbon greeted,
I was nearly sure
just me, the one still young.
There, near the coffin,
a spider sat, alone
and seemingly all lost.
He startled me
as he now stared
until
we both appeared to smile.
I knew he could not be
part of this world.
It takes a real man to confess to being startled by a spider. Tee hee. A serene write, slightly other-wordly indeed H. It got me thinking, at this not particularly ungodly hour. t x
I agree and much prefer funerals. Is your comment also a small sign, like a smoke signal made from juniper? H
Been to too many of these things in the past two years. Don't know which is worse, the funerals or the way the world is today! T
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 11:39:08 AM # 1.0.0.1119
This is quite a sombre and reminiscing type piece, not your usual type of write Herbert. But saying that it is very good indeed, and a very interesting read. Glad I found it. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX