Fragaria Vesca

The shining sun
the green grass green
only a few of us
the ones who mattered.

Afternoon sun
sea salt air
light breeze rustled leaves
crows and smoke.


We dressed him in his suite.

His bowler on his chest
copper for his wrist
iron for his neck
and silver on his eyes.

We enclosed trinkets
poems
words
art.

Inside jokes and love and laughter and tears.
Hope for another life
a better life
far from this one.

We carried him
my sister and my brother-in-law and I
and the two grave diggers.

And we lowered him by hand
lowered him using ropes
because the plywood coffin didn't fit the lowering contraption.
And barely fit the pre-cast abs plastic liner.

Kind of like him.
Kind of like our family.
Never quite fitting this world of ours
or the pre-fabricated society we find ourselves in.

And we threw the dirt in on top
my young niece shoveling
shoveling for all she was worth
into the hand dug hole.


On Friday we buried my father on a hill
covered in green grass and wild strawberries.


He loved strawberries.

Goodbye dad.

In sorrow we must go, but not in despair.
Behold!
We are not bound for ever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory.
― J.R.R. Tolkien ―