We sit in the hall.
Her photo garlanded,
she is smiling, natural
Fruits and flowers are laid out for her
Incense fills the air
The centre of attention,
she must be happy.
Family and friends join hands in prayer
raise voices to chant
then whisper amongst themselvs
of the good soul she was
of the ways she laughed talked walked in their memories
She loved to pray,
thought of God at all times
before and after spewing ungodly words
that tore through
skin muscle ligament veins
to the very soul of those she lived with
She always had a smiling face
to welcome people
but sat grim at home to greet family,
ready to crush them beneath her feet
She'd wish good things for loved ones overseas,
write in her book all their names everyday, so devout
then fill the air with sulphrous words,
pour curses rising from her belly
to suffocate in her fumes
the ones she lived with
She'd never fail to have a cup of tea ready for one grandchild
then berate the other
for not offering her a sandwich
telltale, and watch blows rain upon him,
drive wedge after wedge in a fragile nest
Swirling in contradictions
much is left unsaid
With all respect driven towards the dead
what do they do with the treacherous thoughts in their heads?
The ones in her shadow
bore the brunt of the weight
of the cloak of decency
she shed upon entering home,
the dreaded battlefield
where she shredded the family
as commander in chief,
a heavy presence
waiting to be waited on,
only ever unhappy and
and ever ready to show it,
but only to sum total three,
who'd never be believed,
who would have to bear the taunt
that they must have behaved heinously
to provoke a saint,
the self she showed the world.
So how do we mourn
this angel to the world
witch to the few,
compounded by the good death
she was granted:
speedy,
almost painless,
surrounded by loved ones,
(who actually loved her,
divine as she was
to these folk she was visiting),
granted a beautiful service,
air filled with prayer,
hallowed words that ring hollow
to the three who had quivered under her wrath,
wondering
what went wrong with them?
Maybe, all her prayers did help her,
even if her words and actions slashed, drew blood
Maybe, God wss looking out for the three,
taking her away when she was away,
so they could do their duty
more guest than host,
lifting a burden off their bent backs,
freeing them after 15 years.
Maybe they were her safe space
to be her true self,
and better them than the world.
There is hope she is happy now
the three need feel no guilt,
just accept that angels are devils too
with some,
and know they have permission to feel
this uneasy mix at her passing,
that it is okay to celebrate
her ominous presence lifted
from their home forever
Unburdened,
maybe
they can breathe,
find themselves again
There is hope
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