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Grief Stricken

Grief Stricken


The church bell solemnly tolled,

as the body of Manuel was carried inside.

In that darkened chamber,

amidst flickering candles.

His coffin was opened for one last glimpse,

his peaceful face wrapped in white satin.

Family and friends dressed in black,

the priest in a black stole of mourning.

Maria supported by her mother,

looked sorrowfully on their departed brother.

Maria sobbed uncontrollably,

as she saw Manuel for the last time.

She held the side of the coffin

and could not be moved.

The time came for the final departure

and thence for internment.

Maria screamed in agony,

she held onto the coffin for all she was worth.

No one could move her,

her grip was steadfast as was her love.

The lid was placed on the coffin

and it began its procession out of the church.

Maria ran after after it, her words incoherent,

tears blinded her vision.

She was beyond grief, bereft of all emotions,

a nightmare had wrecked her life.

At the church door she wailed and let out a piercing yell,

'Manuel' please in God's name don't leave me.

Her life was suddenly empty,

as she fell into the arms of her mother.

A red rose fell from her hand,

unnoticed by anyone present.

◄ Trestle Tables

An English Hamlet ►


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Patricia Ziel

Wed 19th Jun 2024 23:17

Wonderfully told. I agree with Manish, I also visualised the whole scene; like I was there.

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Stephen Atkinson

Wed 19th Jun 2024 22:57

A powerful piece of prose, Keith 👏

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keith jeffries

Wed 19th Jun 2024 20:48

Thank you to all who commented and 'liked' this poem. Reggie, I was a mourner. Latin people along with other cultures are more expressive in their emotions. They are no less respectful. I think it healthy to express one's feelings. We tend to be more repressed as opposed to reserved. Why hold back the tears when they want to be released?
Thank you all again,

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Martin Elder

Wed 19th Jun 2024 10:12

Wow a very emotive piece Keith. You caught me up in the narrative form beginning to end. I was on the journey with that woman.

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Reggie's Ghost

Tue 18th Jun 2024 17:49

You paint a powerful picture Keith. Was it a first hand experience?

People from warmer climes always seem much more demonstrative in grief, unlike we British who are generally quiet and respectful.

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Manish Singh Rajput

Tue 18th Jun 2024 14:46

I could visualise the whole scene of grief, Keith, and that's remarkable. Very descriptive and heart-wrenching. I liked the way it ended, "A red rose fell from her hand,
unnoticed by anyone present."

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