Graveside Reflections Poem by Greg Costello

A black trickle of mourners were sucked
Towards the clayless plug-hole;
A ninety-one year old life about to be consumed.
I prayed that her spirit was soaring
Above in a heavenly orbit,
I recoiled at the notion of her lingering
At some lost and found.
I embraced many tearful bystanders,
Looking to reassure, but as much
To seek reassurance,
That at my journey's end,
My soul too, shall find safekeeping.