The Funeral by Donald Hall | Poems Rethabile Likes
The Funeral
by Donald Hall
It is the box from which no jack will spring.
Now close the box, but not until she kisses
The crossed, large hands which she already misses
For their caress, and on his hands the ring.
Now close the box, if we close anything.
She sees the wooden lid, and she dismisses
At least a hundred thoughtful artifices
That would enjoy the tears that they would bring.
The coffin does not matter. It was one
Like many in the row from which she chose it.
Now to be closed in it, he must become
Like all the other dead men, deaf and dumb,
Blank to the small particulars that stun
Her mind all day. Black men, now come and close it.
Now close the box, but not until she kisses
The crossed, large hands which she already misses
For their caress, and on his hands the ring.
Now close the box, if we close anything.
She sees the wooden lid, and she dismisses
At least a hundred thoughtful artifices
That would enjoy the tears that they would bring.
The coffin does not matter. It was one
Like many in the row from which she chose it.
Now to be closed in it, he must become
Like all the other dead men, deaf and dumb,
Blank to the small particulars that stun
Her mind all day. Black men, now come and close it.
Comments
"Walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet."
Thich Nhat Hanh
My writing for the large part is therapy based, but it also stems from my imagination, it emanates from my creative side. I started writing in childhood to recover from what I was witnessing. As a child, I didn't understand what was happening to the adults. Mum and dad were always fighting. I had a diary, and so I put pen to paper. The world began to make sense, and I began to heal. And when I write, it feels as if "my feet are kissing the Earth". There is nothing like that feeling, the sensation of completing a poem. To me, it is the best feeling in the world. I feel the most alive when I am writing.
It is spiritual. It is a meditation of sorts. It is a sacred act. The only requirement is that you give yourself over to it, totally, absolutely completely. Writing has saved me but so has the faces of love of my parents'. So has the hands of God. There is divinity in the act of writing a poem. It is a safe space for me, and I suppose, for other poets as well.