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A Wake

  • bethblairnh8
  • Nov 11, 2023
  • 1 min read

How thin the line

between the silent

remains of our friend

and the line of living

friends who file past.

Some kneel to pray

or say hello, some

turn their backs as

if by doing so her

death can be undone.

The family stands to

receive our sorrow

and careful words of

comfort. The room

fills. Voices that were

hushed grow louder.

Laugher rings out.

Memories bloom.

Our friend is alive in

the stories that are

shared. So...who or

what exactly is in that

polished wooden box?

For while our friend

is gone, she feels

so very here.

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