After the Funeral Service
Long-haired men lift the casket,
through the church’s double doors.
The congregation sings, “Onward,
A vibration begins in my throat.
I think I hear a bat navigating
echolocating while waves of sound
surround it and the coffin.
where we cannot. Its frequencies
intersect with dusty corners,
We sing to our beloved lost one.
The martial meter of the familiar hymn
for the journey to our Creator. I sing
with spirit. We all do, as if we think
can pierce the membrane between
the living and the dead.
as if there is no doubt.
Peggy Turnbull studied anthropology in college and has a master’s in library and information science. She has written all her life, mostly in diaries, but after returning to her birthplace in Wisconsin, she began to write poems. Read them in Ariel Chart, Writers Resist, and Verse-Virtual or visit https://peggyturnbull.blogspot.com/ .