Pirkolaracing Urns – At Peace Within

“In Peace”

A live weed breaks the earth’s surface
And becomes clearly visible.
It is upon a good sized hill,
Where dead grass lays in light brown sheets.
A sluggish wind begins to sound
As it gets caught in the numb trees.

There are no birds, sound, life, or laughter.

I stand on the dark, dampened ground,
Peering into her black casket.
Her face has become so ashen;
It is not what I am used to.
I stomp my foot as my high heel digs
Into the funeral grounds.

There is no comfort, energy, joy, or people.

I remember how it occurred…
A poor man with no life had stole hers.
Where did that man ever journey?
If He is here, then God only knows.
People say to rest in peace…
But what if you can only rest in pieces?