Poem: “The Funeral”

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The Funeral

begins with the birth-date of skin,
              color, gender,
bruising
                     caused by delivery
into your particular place or family.

No one knows what you now feel.

No relative totally relates. No
medical force utterly understands

         the length of your life,
         your foot, your hand,

         or other wonderments
         with which you now
begin.

As soon as you can,
                             investigate
your surroundings and yourself.

See. Sense. Experience.

Untie the intolerable tightness
of your interment, and
                              come forth
                              come forth
into the next unknown.

Mary Harwell Sayler

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