my funeral

x. my funeral 

estefaaano_writes 

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i see the slow train coming 

over the grumpy hill's shoulder.

black as a burned bible.

rusty iron wheels eating distance,

scores my last breath and silence.

though still far, already shaking

the earth beneath where i lie.

the wheel-turn is a heartbeat.

the heartbeat is a nail to my wooden wanting.

station light flares holy in dusk,

painting my beautiful funeral.

across the tracks,

beguiling and necessary.

a grave-dirt ceremony,

a blood-price paid,

for a life that weathered through.

faithful as a dog

to its own extinction.

lonesome when you went.

lonesome these long years under sky,

learning words of stones.

silence becomes a friend.

my bones will wait by the river,

moon blessing them a gentle white.

crows will circle with their hymnals,

returning me to earth before spring.

scatter what remains...

through fields where i once walked alone,

where i once learned that 

lonesome doesn't mean unloved,

for love lives quiet in the bones.

my lonesome grave is my earned peace.

i lived soft,

loved when i could,

let go when i had to,

made friends with emptiness

till it wasn't empty anymore.

the earth tastes honest, gentle even.

when the train finally arrives,

and carries me into that country

where the lonesome sleep without aching,

where rest is just rest,

and the heart,

at last,

goes home.