An Uneasy Rest

Photo by Micael Widell on Pexels.com

Voices. The small, polite chatter of acquaitances catching up. Banal remarks like, “He was so close to retirement,” and “What will his son do now?”

I try to open my eyes. Nothing happens. I urge my lips to shape the words I want to say. Again, nothing. I try to lift one of my crossed hands. The same impotent result!

A saline aroma, and a sudden, shuddering sob. I hear her. Then him, crying, too. “Mom.”

“I’m right here!” I will myself to say, although this mouth refuses me. “I’m still right here!”

An aroma of incense. A recitation of scripture. A final call to say goodbye.

No! My heart must be thudding—they’ll hear. There has to be sweat on my brow—they’ll see! But they don’t. A creak, and whatever silhouettes of light pierced my concrete eyelids disappear.

“No! Don’t bury me! I can’t be dead! I can’t be!”

A thud, as my coffin’s lid seals over me.

fresh grave

perched on a bare bough

a lone crow

I’m hosting dVerse Poets’ Haibun Monday today, where we wax haibunic about fear!

The Pub is open! Come join us!

Categories: haikai, haiku community

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