Top Free Prompt

ISAN FUNERAL

Mother’s mother
Lies in state;
Serene.

Monks from the Wat
Line the walls;
In prayer,
Chanting mantras
To the
Great Unseen

Male descendants
Sacrifice
Their hair,
Don saffron robes
Marking their
Respect,
Lead the mourners
To the
Holy Field

Solemn faces
Silently
Reflect.

Young coconuts
Spill their
Cleansing yield
On head and face
Of mother’s
Mother

Each one in turn
Takes part in
The Rite;
Grandson, daughter
Sister and
Brother.
Grievers gaze as
Pyre is set
Alight

Five days and nights
Set aside
To mourn
The passing of
Our loved one;
Loved still.
Her memory
Lives on in
Hearts torn
By tragedy
Of death’s
Bitter pill