Pall bearers

We loitered outside the house with bent heads and hushed tones
While the pall bearers closed our hall door
And privately manoeuvred the coffin out of the small parlour room

Neighbours and friends had gathered, necks strained to see a little more

Seven brothers suited in black for reverence 

With the oldest nephew making us eight

We took direction for lifting the heavy dead box

and lined ourselves up along the garden gate

In military style we swung it up to our embraced shoulders

It rested there for a moment while we accepted my father's weight

We shifted from foot to foot and searched for the cushion of our arms

and finally began to move in a measured and nervous gait

In silence and sunshine we thread the road

From house to church with jagged steps

Never showing the pain of the lifted box

As the wooden crate dug into our necks

The church door loomed as our journey ended

Signalling the end of our common goal

We handed him over to the waiting priest

Standing with holy water and incense to welcome his soul

Alan Carroll

Rosary

My 12 year old knees grew sore from the gnarly floorboards
And the angelus bell had long stopped ringing
We assembled around the seemingly large double bed
All pious with hands a wringing

Five mysteries to fill the time
With Hail Marys recited like clockwork from my Father’s holy face
We playfully nudged each other’s elbows
As he asked God for his mercy, love and grace

The evening sunshine blinded us through the metal framed windows
As his rosary beads rattled with each passing prayer
We slyly opened our eyes to softly snigger
And to spy the bed dust floating in the air

And now I stand by his six foot mahogany box
And the priest recites the Rosary and anoints his eyes
Time stands still in the packed parlour room
And we slyly open our eyes to cry

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