cremation

Cremation


Mother had a picture, in a golden frame,
on the wall, of a boy in his coffin, tried not
to look but my eyes strayed and the boy’s
stillness frightened me.

Yet, she refused to take it down: “It’s good
for us to be reminded of our mortality,” she
said, young then and death was something
that happened to other people.

Years passed, the picture still hung there,
if forgotten, till cancer snatched my brother,
then she took the picture down and burnt it,
but sensible kept the frame