Before You Leave

Kneeling there as tears fall upon her cheek,

The open coffin unable to speak,

When who she sees is familiar yet strange,

And that for now on everything will change,

Wanting her grandma to open her eyes,

Clinging the way, when someone you love dies,

And nothing can repair a broken heart,

Reaching for words, uncertain how to start,

Whispering with her eyes closed, “I love you.”

She would not follow her mom to the pew,

Instead, she touched the cross her grandma wore,

And held her hand the way she did before,

Praying she would open her eyes that day,

That death is a pretend-game grownups play.

But adults say, “She suffered terribly,”

“She is at peace,” they whisper thankfully,

Begging as she tugs at her grandma’s sleeve,

“Can we have one more day before you leave?”