It was nearly dark when we gathered
wintry grey skies
snow on the ground
freezing our feet
through worn out boots
We took off our caps
and bowed our heads
as the minister spoke the Benediction
sending him to his Maker.
Too young to die
this child of Mary and Joe
too young
when they had such hopes for him.
We hear her keening in the house
a high-pitched sound
of grief from her guts
and we look away
at anything
at the snow on the ground
at the minister
at the wee coffin on the two chairs
we look at anything
but that window
in case we see her face there.
Too young to die
this child
We’ve seen it before
of course
but we all saw the potential in this one.
That’s what breaks our hearts.
Saw this painting at Kelvingrove last week.Powerful!
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So terribly sad. Love Kelvingrove though. Such treasures and so eclectic.
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