Crowded Room Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Crowded room.
Still and solemn
in
the
deepening
gloom.
Reading memorial cards.
Psalm 23
printed inside,
as per usual.
Dates.
He was born
on such and such
a date.
The other is when
he died..
Lips sharing
stories of
when he was vibrant.
We did this and we said that.
Remember
when
he
was
still
talking?
Oh, what a time we had!
Priest in his sombre manner
begins the prayers.
They pretend to
follow
along.
'The Lord be with you.'
'And with your spirit.'
They fall into the routine
and
pray along.
Some are crying.
Weeping tones
interrupting the
ending Rites.
Others look at watches.
Wondering where the
after party will be.
Most of them present
out
of
obligation.
At some point or another
they had connected
with the cadaver
in
the
polished box.
This gave them entry rights
to the final curtain.
Symbolic flowers
arranged in flashing
colours to
offset the occasion.
When it is over,
off to their stories
they'll return.
Every day a man is born.
Another one dies.
Cycles.
Patterns.
The journey of life.
When the rituals are over,
carry on.
Crowded room empties.
Silence.