There was no thud of clay

a poem by Lady Shaula Salathe, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

There was no thud of clay
when my father
He simply drove around
the corner
to the tune of Nature
as a man he had never
met walked solemnly
My eyes cried,
but I could not find
the connection
to the
No dust
nor ash
nor clay
Just concrete
and CDs
Too clean
too slick
all too pretty
for me
and my father.

[Written 31.1.2000 after funeral on 10.12.1997]

Take my hand dear sister (lyrics)
The Art of Dying
The Weight of Sorrow

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