A Grandmother’s Impression

Orchids surrounding an otherwise bleak altar,

purple hues contrasting a congregation of black clothing.

Thoughts mimicking the crescendo of a rusted organ,

growing louder in volume, but weaker in resolve.

Bodies almost as stiff as the one in remembrance,

quiet for the one who always filled the silence

with a sincere grin and inviting eyes.

A striking blue that generations produce,

now glistening with the intimidation

of unshed tears begging to spill

like boiling water

flooding from an unsupervised teapot.

Belonging to you, but not feeling attached,

is the soul that yearns

to be alongside the one who passed.