Running blindly,
millions of needles
prickling my skin;
Rapid fire
through space;
Bullets rip through bone and sinew,
burning flesh
white blinding pain.
Will they know?
Will they care?
My thoughts chaotic
struggling to grasp
a defining statement.
Stories of my life
fly past in black and white
too quickly to savor.
Pain recedes.
Din becomes silence.
Floating sensations claim me.
Eyes wide open stare
back at me from the box.
Mahogany and white satin,
sounds of whispers and whimpers.
A photograph, a likeness,
on an easel beside the coffin.
The American flag folded
correctly, lying on top.
I watch and listen and know
that those in attendance now
eulogize, memorialize.
But not when it counted, not when
I could feel. Chest out.
Standing tall. Saluting.

For M. A. A. Rest In Peace

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byLadyGenevieve© 2 comments/ 1342 views/ 0 favorites

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