Ghost of Funeral Past
By G. Greene
seated before the altar,
I mourned you at the inaugural
of the end of our life.
In that same hour today,
the sad ghost I am now
returned to the shrine
of that bitter anniversary
to find a baptism underway,
renovating the echo of your last rites.
From the last pew
I bore silent witness
to the rituals of a newborn life,
as I wept over the remains of ours.
I departed quietly,
a poltergeist with no role in that play,
unseen, unremarked, unrequited,
and made my solemn way to the graveyard,
the very last specter in your funeral procession,
the very first in hers.
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