Elisabeth Wentworth: The Interment of the Ashes

The Interment of the Ashes

They waited a year
Let him have one more birthday
Cremation, though abrupt, buys you time.
You can keep an urn close
Hold on to the remains of your son
Till the howling madness has passed
And some peace is resurrected from the ashes
Enough at least to go on with.
In the pause before we walk back to our cars
His father takes up the spade again
Not satisfied with the arrangement of the soil.
He bends down to brush the stray crumbs
From the plaque that summarises his son
As if smoothing a quilt.
A small stagger as he rises
And it is accomplished.
As we walk away I can hear
Other topics of conversation resumed
The exchange of other news has begun.
Someone laughs, forgetting themselves
And the decent interval comes to an end.
If I hear anyone say that life must go on
I will scream. Instead, I grip my own son
Hard, by the shoulders
And demand that he stay alive.

Elisabeth Wentworth