Destitute in my thoughts,
I found myself removed that day.
There he was,
lying cold
And just ten.
A bloody shame.
It’s hard to quite grasp
the feeling first
encountered
upon the image of a corpse.
Shock, fear,
and a deep sadness:
the inevitable frailty of life.
A “corpse” I thought.
This little man
Once a name,
Now as ice and plastic,
what have you become?
I remember how he used to make me smile,
And the way he would tease his dog “Abby”.
They say animals recognize the soul,
His was a gentle one…
Just a child,
unaware of the pain the world can bring.
He was too young to know fear,
And her touch had not yet corrupted him.
A bloody shame.
Amongst the crowd were mourners,
Little children and adults.
They had come to see their friend,
But children should never know this pain.
They brought toys, flowers
and the hope of the
lives they would lead.
Tiny hands, and tiny feet,
while
his remained cold.
In and out they paid their respects,
“oh it’s a shame” and
“he was so young”.
And then back to life.
My uncle stood alone.
Your pain will never be removed,
And for that I'm sorry,
A bloody shame.
Copyright (c) David DeSantis
David DeSantis
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-funeral-2/
