Attending My Mother’s Funeral With Much Faith

By Paul David Adkins. Posted in Issue Three and Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

It would take much faith to believe my mother

out of that coffin,

that grave.


But I had it

and would coax her forth like Lazarus

in the middle of her viewing.


Her green dress did not

flutter as I wafted

then whipped

prayer after prayer into the breeze

of the funeral parlor’s ceiling fan.





Her stiff hair did not stir.

I left bitter as a green orange.


I didn’t know that faith

could also hush her and cool


the cancer that once

steamed and blew

like a geyser

through her bones,


her repose in perfect line

with an exhausted domestic

finally soaking

her calloused heels

in the warmth

of a freshly drawn bath.


How faith could cap that soul

which otherwise might have swirled

and risen in ignorance

like an insect

toward the human call and gleam

so blue and shimmering

with wing shards,

sizzling promise.

● ● ●

Paul David Adkins grew up in South Florida and lives in New York.

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