There’s a sound I will always remember. The sound of a body bag and a mortuary crane.
Oh, how the yellow zips clipped and crackled my chest,
Closing off things i never thought were open–
Like the memories of you that I always cherish,
Like the sound of your voice when laughter bursts of your lips,
Oh how they were zipped–
The sound of the crane cracking the floor–
Oh how I wanted to curse the ground.
To insult it for forming you and then taking you–
That sound, the cracking sound,
Sounded like the piercing sound of your cry.
Oh, how it pained me when you wept:
I remember you,
I carry you,
In me and
In places I will continue to enter.
Sometimes I cry,
Sometimes I wonder,
Sometimes I cry in wonder.
Of memories we would have made
Of things I could have done for you
Of lessons on love
On love for family and for God
On love for home before self
Of unwavering hope
Oh, how that sound haunts
Sometimes in my dreams when I see you
Sometimes on doors I close
Reminding me of your voice
Oh! how I miss you
Oh! how home is no longer home
Oh! how I died when you died
Sometimes, I wish you were my here–
Perhaps, someday, I will meet my home–
For in you home is better hope
For home is you.