Inga's Day

Waiting on a funeral, I'm waiting for tomorrow.
I'm posting this today, provoking all my sorrow.
I'm not sure I'll be sad or not, I'm not sure I'll be bothered.
But maybe tears will choke me up until I feel I'm smothered.

Tomorrow waits the casket, the flowers and the basket.
The church, the stepping stones - the fires and the matches.
The hatchet, the organ, the church song and ratchet.
And all good memories that we can salvage.

In a moment of silence - in a moment of calm.
I'll look down at the ground, and cradle her in my arms.
Imagining I hold a memory, or at least remember the sound.
Or her voice, on the stairs, coming down.

Hope I'll be, as prepared, as I'm now.
Hope my fears, won't rear up, tear me down.
Hope we share, in a calm, instead of cries, and alarm.
Hope the care, is appeared, to go round.

On Inga's day.