writingsparebloglmao
writingsparebloglmao
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writingsparebloglmao · 3 years ago
Text
to carry a coffin
I stood here,
more than seven years ago,
with the soles of my feet rooted to the ground
as Rabbi Liboro spoke heartfelt words of the person I loved most in the world.
It was cold and miserable that day,
and my hollow 10-year-old bones shivered
as they lowered my grandmother into the ground,
next to a vacant plot
simply waiting for you.
I am no longer a scared 10 year old on the outside.
I have grown into a body that I will make my own,
although it feels
too big for me still.
I look over at my cousins Sam and Charlie-
since she died, they have grown into men.
One day I will too,
and neither of you will see it,
and probably no one else who stands here with me.
I think about how different my life would’ve been
had I been raised to carry a coffin,
one of six Jewish men.
And perhaps I mourn for the loss of what my own life should’ve been
more than I mourn for yours,
which in its own right
makes me almost as much a selfish prick
as you were.
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