2011.07.31
No.
The last prayer had been said,
and it was time to turn away
from the casket, poised on its silver
scaffolding over the open hole
that smelled like a harrowed field.
And then I heard a noise that seemed
not to be human. It was more like the wind
among leafless trees, or cattle lowing
in a distant barn. I paused with one
hand on the roof of the car,
while the sound rose in pitch, then
cohered into language: No, don’t do this
to me! No, no…! And everyone
stood where they were, unsure
whether to stay, or to leave me there.
—Jane Kenyon 
