Candice Renae Williams

Rookie (Jan.10 1985 / Martin, Kentucky)

My Sister's Funeral

Poem by Candice Renae Williams

Strike, spark, and inhale.
I fling the used match to the side,
exhale, and take another hard puffing.
People stood awkwardly in line-proceeding
Each of em’ preparing-speeches,
and each with their soft words that they care with understanding,
telling me that I was needing-
some time alone to bother coping.
Anger, useless feeling.
So I sat there, staring blankly
at the ‘comforting’ wall-paper they forever kept using,
and let the seconds turn—ticking on by
Cramp in shoulder, shift position, and inhale.
The light bulb flickering, and I watch it uncaring.
“You fell! And then…”
spouts of giggling from the loving, “
you followed me across the log with sandals…’
another bout of unending-pent up giggling.
I spot light gray stripes on -crimson dancing.
A little girl with her long dark brown hair pulled-yet still flying—
in a tight pony tail twirling around in a circle- with her arms raising
“Ballerina, Ballerina, ” her sweet voice grating
Why would anyone bring a child here?
This is time alone, I just kept saying
The girl is running now,
her laughter following her, still she is moving
and as I am watching she starts her smiling
Her joy reminding
“Am I beautiful? ”
Her brown eyes sparkling, as she kept swinging,
the expensive red dress flaring
-I was laughing “You’re gorgeous and you know it girl.”
But she kept smiling, and…
then I am crying... the smile fading.
“Are you awake Lady? ”
I jerking- knocking loose hot embers—I’d kept neglecting-
dangling cigarette onto my black skirt.
Brushing them quickly off my skirt I study-seeing
Two perfect burn circles. “Crap, ”
Pieces of the whispering- words drifted around the suffocating room to my corner. Pieces of the whispering words drifting around the suffocating room to my corner.
“not coping, ” I held my hand out to the little girl and
“keeps crying…”
where are you going?
“…close as can be, I hear she keeps looking…”

No-don't be leaving-you are smiling!

“…overdosing…some form of denying…”

I just wanted to keep screaming,
and never feel the stopping,
Maybe then they’d stop trying truth-in convincing-with their telling
that she'd been lying.

Strike, spark, and inhale.
I fling the used match to the side,
exhale, and take another hard puffing.


Comments about My Sister's Funeral by Candice Renae Williams

  • Candice Williams (3/28/2005 10:51:00 AM)

    I have stuck to..ing... I wonder if it is working...(Report)Reply

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Read poems about / on: girl, anger, running, funeral, sister, laughter, alone, beautiful, light, truth, smile, child, hair, red, joy, people, dark, children, dance



Poem Submitted: Saturday, March 26, 2005