The old, musty smell

The family members I didn’t know,

Names I didn’t catch,

Words that didn't process.

Black dress,

Too tight in the shoulders.

The room was loud, yet quiet.

Millions of voices talking,

Slowly, sadly, solemnly.

Blame would have been tossed about

If we weren’t so depleted.
Let me leave.

I remember singing a song,

Praise God and all that,

But the meaning escaped me.

Pictures I didn’t know existed

Flashed on screen

Performing a melancholy dance

Of remembrance.

Looking around, there was a little girl I remembered

From when the dead girl wore white,

And I could recall how much fun we’d had

When we danced up a storm.

Neither of us spoke a word.

I remember there were cookies,

Drizzled with jelly and chocolate,

But I wasn’t hungry.

I remember the pressure

Building in the back of my throat,

Threatening to let my tears out

Despite my orders not to.

I left early, stepping into fresh air.

It was hot and bright,

The sun beating down on me,

Making me sweat in my black ensemble.

It seemed cruel that the sun would shine

On a day like this.

Rain would be more fitting.