It’s raining, as we silently march through sodden grounds, to the plot where we will lay you to rest. Do you see how the gray sky weeps in your absence? This morning, birds refused to sing their melodious songs. Silent were their whistles and fanciful chirps. Baby squirrels refrained from play; their heads bowed in reverence. Lizards forsook morning push-ups leaving territories unclaimed. See how the sun has hidden her scorching face? She dares not give light to the emptiness of today. Through raindrops, our gaze come to rest on your silver casket. Soon you will be lowered into the earth, into the mouth of a ravenous grave, attempting to satisfy its unending hunger. But you are not a sacrifice, no, never that. You are a gift given back to the earth from which you were created.
Arlene Antoinette is a poet of West Indian birth who grew up in Brooklyn, New York. She graduated from Brooklyn College and worked as an instructor with disabled individuals for many years. You may find additional work by Arlene at Foxglove Journal, Little Rose Magazine, I am not a silent Poet, Tuck Magazine, The Feminine Collective, The Open Mouse, Amaryllis Poetry, Boston Accent Lit, Sick Lit Magazine, Postcard Shorts, 50 Word Stories, The Ginger Collect, Neologism Poetry Journal and Your Daily Poem.